I looked down at the words I'd written on the paper. Words that were at once a thousand years old and yet completely new. I held them to my chest, but did not feel foolish for doing so. Somehow I felt Muallem would understand. My mother could write and read, this poem and more. I wanted to learn to do that too.
-- Chapter 10, pages 103-104
Oh, if Zulaikha only knew
A single wall kept her love from view!
A secret longing, a restless desire,
Burned through her blood, and set her afire.
She tried to contain it, but she couldn't name
The light that had sparked this consuming flame.
-- Chapter 18, page 217