Ismail Kadare

“فى أثناء الحروب يكون من الصعب دائما التفرقة ما بين ما هو تراجيدى و ما هو مثير للضحك، و بين ما هو بطولى و ما هو مثير للحزن و الكآبة”

“Dictatorship and authentic literature are incompatible... The writer is the natural enemy of dictatorship.”

“Në rruget e tjera dëgjoheshin aty-këtu britma fatkëqijsh, që i zvarrisnin për flokësh, per t'i çuar në Degë. Fajësoheshin se gjatë mitingut të përmortshëm, në vend që të qanin a, së paku, të psherëtinin, kishin qeshur e, ndonëse ata bënin be e rrufe se s'kishin qeshur aspak e, përkundrazi, kishin qenë të vrarë në shpirt si të gjithë, por që as vet s'e dinin pse, e qara befas u qe kthyer në ngërdheshje, madje, shtonin se s'ishte hera e parë që u ndodhte kjo, askush nuk i besonte e, në vend t'i dëgjonin, i godisnin më fort.”

“Who in the world has not yearned for a loved one, has never said, If only he or she could come back just once, just one more time...? Despite the fact that it can never happen, never ever. Surely this is the saddest thing about our mortal world, and its sadness will go on shrouding human life like a blanket of fog until its final extinction.”

“I could not understand how people could not like something as beautiful as the aerodrome. But I had lately become convinced that in general people were pretty boring. They liked to moan for hours on end about how hard it was to make ends meet, about the money they owed, the price of food, and other similar worries, but the minute some more brilliant or attractive subject come up, they were struck deaf.”

“If an animal has to be sacrificed when a new bridge is built, what will it take to build a whole new world?”

“Winter hurled more wind and rain at the city than it ever had before. Clouds dashed about in all directions emptying their thunder, hail and rain. The horizon was choked in fog.”

“Thick smoke like a herd of black horses was rising over the massive building and being blown around by the wind.”

“(In our city spring came from the sky, not from the soil, which was ruled by stone that recognizes no seasonal change. The change of the season could be glimpsed in the thinning of clouds, the appearance of the birds and the occasional rainbow.)”

“Sunday had spread all over the city. It looked as if the sun had smacked into the earth and broken into pieces and chunks of wet light were scattered everywhere -- in the streets, on the window panes, on puddles and roofs. I remembered a day long ago when Grandmother had cleaned a big fish. Her forearms were splattered with shiny scales. It was as if she had Sunday in her whole body. When my father got angry, he had Tuesday.”

“Shiny musical instruments wailed, their mouths open like lilies.”

“Can a country's people be better than its planes?”

“The days were heavy and sticky. All identical, one the same as the other. Soon they would even get rid of their one remaining distinction, the shell of their names: Monday, Tuesday, Thursday.”

“I couldn't get to sleep. The book lay nearby. A thin object on the divan. So strange. Between two cardboard covers were noises, doors, howls, horses, people. All side by side, pressed tightly against one another. Boiled down to little black marks. Hair, eyes, voices, nails, legs, knocks on doors, walls, blood, beards, the sound of horseshoes, shouts. All docile, blindly obedient to the little black marks. The letters run in mad haste, now here, now there. The a's, f's, y's, k's all run. They gather together to create a horse or a hailstorm. They run again. Now they create a dagger, a night, a murder. Then streets, slamming doors, silence. Running and running. Never stopping.”

“Not a single thought managed to take shape in her mind: for the likeness of this day to the last seemed to her the clearest proof that it would be another quite useless day, a day she would gladly have done without. For a moment she thought that a day like this would be pointless for anyone on earth, then abruptly changed her mind as she realised that thousands of women, after a hard week's work, or a family quarrel, or even just after catching a cold, would envy her just for having the leisure to rest in comfort.”

“This is how things come to pass in the world,' one of the princes is supposed to have said. 'Blood flows one way in life and another way in song, and one never knows which flow is the right one.”

“Can one move an empire as if it were a house?”

“His suspicion that he was not going in the right direction tortmented him more and more. At last he had the conviction that he would never go anywhere but in the wrong direction, to the very end of the handful of days that was left to him, unhappy moonstruck pilgrim, whose April was to be cut off short.”

“To tell the truth, this was one of the few cases in which she had not told him just what she was thinking. Usually, she let him know whatever thoughts happened to come to her, and indeed he never took it amiss if she let slip a word that might pain him, because when all was said and done that was the price one paid for sincerity.”

“Having left, for various reasons, the homeland of epic, they were uprooted like trees overthrown, they had lost their heroic character and deep-seated virtue.”

“It was only a phrase that went from mouth to mouth and was never quite swallowed.”

“And everything would be different, different.”

“Die Emigration kann ein Zeichen der Stärke oder der Schwäche einer Nation sein.”