“Ljubav nije jezero u kome se uvek može ogledati... ona ima plimu i oseku i olupine i potonule gradove i bure i kovčege sa zlatom i bisere… ali biseri su duboko...”

“Čovek gubi hrabrost. Veruje da se može navići na razočaranja. To nije tačno. Ona svaki put sve više bole tako da se čovek uplaši. To je kao da se svaki put više opeče. I svaki put sporije zarasta. Ne želim da se još koji put opečem.”

“I want that quiet rapture again. I want to feel the same powerful, nameless urge that I used to feel when I turned to my books. The breath of desire that then arose from the coloured backs of the books, shall fill me again, melt the heavy, dead lump of lead that lies somewhere in me and waken again the impatience of the future, the quick joy in the world of thought, it shall bring back again the lost eagerness of my youth. I sit and wait.”

“I wandered through the streets thinking of all the things I might have said and might have done had I been other than I was.”

“Pikat e renda e goditen ne fytyre. dhe pernjeheresh ai s'po e merrte vesh ne ishte qesharak apo i mjere, ne vuante apo nuk vuante-dinte vetem se po jetonte. Po jetonte! ai ekzistonte, jeta e kishte pushtuar serisht, dhe ai nuk ishte me spektator, nuk qendronte me jashte saj; shkelqimi i forte i ndjenjes se pakontrollueshme vershonte perseri neper damaret e tij, si zjarri neper oxhake furrnaltash; dhe nuk kishte pike rendesie ne ishte i lumtur apo fatkeq; ai po jetonte dhe e ndiente fort qe po jetonte- dhe kjo ishte mjaft!”

“The miracle has passed me by; it has touched but not changed me; I still have the same name and I know I will probably bear it until the end of my days; I am no phoenix; resurrection is not for me; I have tried to fly but I am tumbling like a dazzled, awkward rooster back to earth, back behind the barbed wires.”

“I have been running all about; I have knocked again at all the doors of my youth and desired to enter in there; I thought, surely it must admit me again, for I am still young and have wished so much to forget; but it fled always before me like a will-o'-the-wisp; it fell away without a sound; it crumbled like tinder at my lightest touch. And I could not understand.--Surely here at least something of it must remain? I attempted it again and again, and as a result made myself merely ridiculous and wretched. But now I know. I know now that a still, silent war has ravaged this country of my memories also; I know now it would be useless for me to look farther. Time lies between like a great gulf; I cannot get back. There is nothing for it; I must go forward, march onward, anywhere; it matters nothing, for I have no goal”