A man’s heart is a wretched, wretched thing. It isn’t like a mother’s womb. It won’t bleed. It won’t stretch to make room for you.
KHALED HOSSEINIBeauty is an enormous, unmerited gift given randomly, stupidly.
More Khaled Hosseini Quotes
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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.
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The desert weed lives on, but the flower of spring blooms and wilts.
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I suspect the truth is that we are waiting, all of us, against insurmountable odds, for something extraordinary to happen to us.
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Everyone is an ocean inside. Every individual walking the street. Everyone is a universe of thoughts, and insights, and feelings. But every person is crippled in his or her own way by our inability to truly present ourselves to the world.
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Nothing happens in a vacuum in life: every action has a series of consequences, and sometimes it takes a long time to fully understand the consequences of our actions.
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A man’s heart is a wretched, wretched thing. It isn’t like a mother’s womb. It won’t bleed. It won’t stretch to make room for you.
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I think novelists, when they write their books, end up having occasionally serving a purpose and playing roles that they never really fully either intended or even understood.
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There is only one sin. and that is theft. When you tell a lie, you steal someones right to the truth.
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One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs, Or the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls.
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But time, it is like charm. You never have as much as you think.
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But time, it is like charm. You never have as much as you think.
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I laughed. Partly at the joke, partly at how Afghan humor never changed. Wars were waged, the Internet was invented, and a robot had rolled on the surface of Mars, and in Afghanistan we were still telling Mullah Nasruddin jokes.
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But then it passed, as all things do.
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She was the trembler of knees, the spiller of teacups.
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I want to tear myself from this place, from this reality, rise up like a cloud and float away, melt into this humid summer night and dissolve somewhere far, over the hills. But I am here, my legs blocks of concrete, my lungs empty of air, my throat burning. There will be no floating away.
KHALED HOSSEINI