What good is regret? It brings back nothing. What we have lost is irretrievable.

Attention shifted to him like sunflowers turning to the sun.

I don't outline at all; I don't find it useful, and I don't like the way it boxes me in. I like the element of surprise and spontaneity, of letting the story find its own way.

Nothing good came free. Even love. You paid for all things. And if you were poor, suffering was your currency.

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

Mostly, though, I dream of good things...I dream that flowers will bloom in the streets..again and music will play in the...houses and kites will fly in the skies.

If my book generates any sort of dialogue among Afghans, then I think it will have done a service to the community.