Gregory David Roberts

The voice, Afghan matchmakers say, is more than half of love.

The legends say that the loved one is instantly recognised because she’s loved in every gesture, every expression of thought, every movement, every sound, and every mood that prays in her eyes. The legends say that we know her by her wings—the wings that only we can see—and because wanting her kills every other desire of love.

The past reflects eternally between two mirrors—the bright mirror of words and deeds, and the dark one, full of things we didn’t do or say.

Being listened to—really listened to—is the second-best thing in the world.

You know, I read a book once, called Women for Idiots.’

‘What did you find out?’

‘I couldn’t make head or tail of it. But it confirmed a point from my own messed-up experience, which is that you can’t know what’s in a woman’s mind, until she tells you. And to do that, you have to ask her

You marry them,’ Blue Hijab said, ‘hoping they’ll change, and grow

And they marry us, hoping that we won’t.’

screams of surrender, always louder than screams of defiance

But every execution kills justice, because no life deserves to be killed. I survived the desert-inside of prison beatings, and stumbled on, because I forgave the men who tortured me. I learned that trick from tortured men, who felt it their duty to pass it on

Let it go, those different wise men said. Hating them, like they hate us, will ruin your mind, and that’s the one thing they can’t hit