The second symptom of the death of our dreams lies in our certainties. Because we don’t want to see life as a grand adventure, we begin to think of ourselves as wise and fair and correct in asking so little of life.

Writers (my kind of writers: aspiring novelists, ruminative thinkers, people whose brains don’t work quick enough to blog or link or tweet, basically old, stubborn blowhards) were

I laughed. Clutched him in a hug and planted a kiss on his cheek. "What was that for?" he said; startled, blushing. I gave him a friendly hug, smiled. "You're a prince, Hassan. You're a prince and I love you.

Written By Khaled Hosseini

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