The Kite Runner

by Khaled Hosseini

“It was Homaira and me against the world. And I’ll tell you this, Amir jan: In the end, the world always wins. That’s just the way of things.”

When you kill a man, you steal a life. You steal his wife’s right to a husband, rob his children of a father. When you tell a lie, you steal someone’s right to the truth. When you cheat, you steal the right to fairness. There is no act more wretched than stealing.

I watched Baba’s car pull away from the curb, taking with it the person whose first spoken word had been my name. I

Very touching

one disappointing son and two suitcases.

I cringed a little at the position of power I’d been granted, and all because I had won at the genetic lottery that had determined my sex.

Make morning into a key and throw it into the well, Go slowly, my lovely moon, go slowly. Let the morning sun forget to rise in the east, Go slowly, my lovely moon, go slowly.

For you, a thousand times over!

I understood now why the boys hadn’t shown any interest in the watch. They hadn’t been staring at the watch at all. They’d been staring at my food.

When you tell a lie, you steal a man’s right to the truth.

That’s how children deal with terror. They fall asleep.

my legs blocks of concrete, my lungs empty of air, my throat burning.

Perspective was a luxury when your head was constantly buzzing with a swarm of demons.

Life goes on, unmindful of beginning, end, kamyab, nah-kam, crisis or catharsis, moving forward like a slow, dusty caravan of kochis.

“And one more thing, General Sahib,” I said. “You will never again refer to him as ‘Hazara boy’ in my presence. He has a name and it’s Sohrab.”

Quiet is turning down the VOLUME knob on life. Silence is pushing the OFF button. Shutting it down. All of it.

“For you, a thousand times over,”