Khaled Hosseini Quotes - Page 14

And one more thing...You will never again refer to him as 'Hazara boy' in my presence. He has a name and it's Sohrab.

Your job today is to pass gas. You do that and we can start feeding you liquids. No fart, no food.

The impact had cut your upper lip in two, he had said, clean down the middle. Clean down the middle. Like a harelip.

the past held only this wisdom: that love was a damaging mistake, and its accomplice, hope, a treacherous illusion

Sometimes, Soraya Sleeping next to me, I lay in bed and listened to the screen door swinging open and shut with the breeze, to the crickets chirping in the yard. And I could almost feel the emptiness in Soraya's womb, like it was a living, breathing thing. It had seeped into our marriage, that emptiness, into our laughs, and our love-making. And late at night, in the darkness of our room, I'd feel it rising from Soraya and setting between us. Sleeping between us. Like a newborn child.

Laila remembered Mammy telling Babi once that she had married a man who had no convictions. Mammy didn't understand. She didn't understand that if she looked into a mirror, she would find the one unfailing conviction of his life looking right back at her.

Soon, he would become an adult. And when he did, there would be not going back because adulthood was akin to what his father had once said about being a war hero: one you became one, you died one.

Laila has moved on. Because in the end she knows that’s all she can do. That and hope.

these random unkind moment that catch you wen you least expect them.

You have these crops of poppies that supply something like 90% of the heroin sold in Europe and actually represents more than half of the Afghanistan's GDP.

Though there had been moments of beauty in it, Mariam knew that life for most part has been unkind to her. But as she walked the final twenty paces, she could not help but wish for more of it.

I’ll die if you go. The Jinn will come, and I’ll have one of my fits. You’ll see, I’ll swallow my tongue and die. Don’t leave me, Mariam jo. Please stay. I’ll die if you go.

At that moment, she cannot think of a more reckless, irrational thing than choosing to become a parent.

At least, it is encouraging to me that President [Barack] Obama has put Afghanistan front and center in this broader so-called War on terror, and that he is taking a different approach to Afghanistan.

I give novels as gifts, and there is nothing I like to receive more as a gift.

I think that to fully appreciate baseball, it helps to have been born in the U.S.

You don't have to donate money, it can be clothes, or books, or mediavl supplies. So there's so much that can be done [for refugees], the most difficult thing is that first step that decision to do something.

There are so many orgizations that do amazing work. I represent not only my own foundation, but the UN Refugee Agency, which has been around since 1951, and has helped 30 million refugees around the world.

Educate yourself, learn about what refugees face when they don't have homes, after they have lost everything.

I think the emancipation of women in Afghanistan has to come from inside, through Afghans themselves, gradually, over time.

She lived in fear of his shifting moods, his volatile temperament, his insistence on steering even mundane exchanges down a confrontational path that, on occasion, he would resolve with punches, slaps, kicks, and sometimes try to make amends for with polluted apologies, and sometimes not.

Probably the single most commen response I get from my readesr, be it through e-mails or letters, is that they did not know much, or at times, they're quite frank, they didn't care much about Afghanistan. But they pay attention more after reading these novels, and at times it has triggered this humaitarian spirt: some have donated money or at time times, people have joined humatiarian organizations that work in Afghanistan.

In Kabul, hot running water had been like fathers, a rare commodity.

After everything he'd built, planned, fought for, fretted over, dreamed of, this was the summation of his life; one disappointing son and two suitcases.

So, then. You want a story and I will tell you one.