instead of becoming a strong and ardent and generous Catholic, I simply slipped into the ranks of the millions of tepid and dull and sluggish and indifferent Christians who live a life that is still half animal, and who barely put up a struggle to keep the breath of grace alive in their souls.

Sonnet 55 that “Not marble nor the gilded monuments / Of princes shall outlive this powerful rhyme” [1–2]).

Dreams have only the pigmentation of fact.

I used to picture us as two leaves, blowing miles apart in the wind yet bound by the deep tangled roots of the tree from which we had both fallen.

Written By Khaled Hosseini

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