In 2004, I took a one year sabbatical to finish my second novel, A Thousand Splendid Suns. At the end of that year, I was not done with my book, and had to in effect resign from work. I did. I never went back.

Air grew heavy, damp, almost solid. I was breathing bricks.

War doesn't negate decency. It demands it, even more than in times of peace.

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

i want to give up my bearings, slip out of who i am, shed everything, the way a snake discards old skin.

Reading is an active, imaginative act; it takes work.

I found a sad little fairy Beneath the shade of a paper tree. I know a sad little fairy Who was blown away by the wind one night.