It's wrong what they say about the past, I've learned, about how you can bury it. Because the past claws its way out.

If the story had been about anyone else, it would been dismissed as laaf, that Afghan tendency to exaggerate ---sadly, almost a national affliction; if someone bragged that his son was a doctor, chances were the kid had once passed a biology test in high school.

And suddenly, just like that, hope became knowledge. I was going to win. It was just a matter of when.

The bewildering success of my books continues to surprise me.

I have this almost pathological fear of boring the reader.

Gone. Vanished. Nothing left. Nothing said.

I was overwhelmed with the kindness of people [in Afghanistan] and found that they had managed to retain their dignity, their pride, and their hospitality under unspeakably bleak conditions.