Quotes About Conflict

Never mind that to me, the face of Afghanistan is that of a boy with a thin-boned frame, a shaved head, and low-set ears, a boy with a Chinese doll face perpetually lit by a harelipped smile. Never mind any of those things. Because history isn't easy to overcome. Neither is religion. In the end, I was a Pashtun and he was a Hazara, I was Sunni and he was Shi'a, and nothing was ever going to change that. Nothing.

What began with exuberance and passion always ended with terse accusations and hateful words, with rage and weeping fits.

Their fights didn't so much end as dissipate, like a drop of ink in a bowl of water, with a residual taint that lingered.

He scarcely knew who was battling whom, who was winning, who was losing, as though he hoped that by doggedly ignoring the war it would return the favor

war. Or, rather, wars. Not one, not two, but many wars, both big and small, just and unjust, wars with shifting casts of supposed heroes and villains, each new hero making one increasingly nostalgic for the old villain. The names changed, as did the faces, and I spit on them equally for all the petty feuds, the snipers, the land mines, bombing raids, the rockets, the looting and raping and killing.

The generation of Afghan children whose ears would know nothing but the sounds of bombs and gunfire was not yet born.

After all, didn't all fathers in their secret hearts harbor a desire to kill their sons?

Laila was shocked at how easily she'd come unhinged, but, the truth was, part of her had liked it, had liked how it felt to scream at Mariam, to curse her, to have a target at which to focus all her simmering anger, her grief.

After all, didn't all fathers in their secret hearts harbor a desire to kill their sons?

How seamless seemed love and then came trouble!'" A

Kami meninggalkan mayat-mayat itu di jalan, dan kalau keluarga mereka mencoba menyelinap untuk menyeret kembali mayat-mayat itu ke rumah mereka, kami tak akan ragu menembak mereka. Kami membiarkan mayat-mayat itu menjadi santapan anjing. Daging anjing hanya cocok untuk anjing.

Not that they give a damn in America, mind you. What do they care that Pashtuns and Hazaras and Tajiks and Uzbeks are killing each other? How many Americans can even tell one from the other? Don't expect help from them, I say. Now that the Soviets have collapsed, we're no use to them. We served our purpose. To them, Afghanistan is a kenarab, a shit hole. Excuse my language, but it's true.

Ask him where his shame is. They spoke. He says this is war. There is no shame in war. Tell him he's wrong. War doesn't negate decency. It demands it, even more than in times of peace.

If you went from the Shar-e-Nau section to Kerteh-Parwan to buy a carpet, you risked getting shot by a sniper or getting blown up by a rocket—if you got past all the checkpoints, that was. You practically needed a visa to go from one neighborhood to the other. So people just stayed put, prayed the next rocket wouldn't hit their home.

Lagi pula, bukankah semua ayah, di lubuk hati mereka yang terdalam, memiliki keinginan untuk membunuh putra mereka?

Afghanistan is like a beautiful mansion littered with garbage, and someone has to take out the garbage. That's what you were doing in Mazar, going door-to-door? Taking out the garbage? - Precisely. In the west, they have an expression for that. They call it ethnic cleansing. - Do they? Ethnic cleansing. I like it. I like the sound of it.

A jeep honked and Tariq whistled back, beaming and waving cheerfully. Lovely guns! he yelled. Fabulous jeeps! Fabulous army! Too bad you're losing to a bunch of peasants firing slingshots!

Too many young Afghan men are dying this way.

War doesn't negate decency. It demands it, even more than in times of peace.

the only enemy an Afghan cannot defeat is himself.

Credono di vivere in nome di ciò che vogliono. Ma in realtà si fanno guidare da ciò di cui hanno paura, da quello che non vorrebbero assolutamente.

Kesopanan tidak hilang gara-gara perang. Dalam masa perang, kesopanan dibutuhkan, lebih daripada dalam masa damai.

The wars had made fathers a rare commodity in Afghanistan.

The generation of Afghan children whose ears would know nothing but the sounds of bombs and gunfire was not yet born. Huddled together in the dining room and waiting for the sun to rise, none of us had any notion that a way of life had ended.