The novel [The Kite Runner] came about as an expansion of that original, unpublished short story.

Life is a train, get on board.

I’m all you have in this world Mariam, and when I’m gone you’ll have nothing. You ARE nothing!

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

I came to the US as an immigrant and I recall vividly those first few years in California, the brief time we spent on welfare, and the difficult task of assimilating into a new culture.

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

I have this almost pathological fear of boring the reader.