Dictatorship and authentic literature are incompatible... The writer is the natural enemy of dictatorship. — Ismail Kadaré Copy Share Image
The writer is always to some extent in exile, wherever he is, because he is somehow outside, separated from others; there is… — Ismail Kadaré Copy Share Image
I had three choices: to conform to my own beliefs, which meant death; complete silence, which meant another kind of death; to… — Ismail Kadaré Copy Share Image
“This is how things come to pass in the world,' one of the princes is supposed to have said. 'Blood flows one way in… — Ismail Kadare Copy Share Image
“Thick smoke like a herd of black horses was rising over the massive building and being blown around by the wind.” — Ismail Kadare Copy Share Image
“Divizije, pukovnije, batoljoni, čete, jedinice svih vrsta pomiješat će se u gomili lijesova. Potom će ih ukrcati u veliki brod koji će tromo isploviti… — Ismail Kadaré Copy Share Image
“At street corners, where walls join, I thought I could see some familiar features, like outlines of human faces, the shadows of cheekbones and… — Ismail Kadaré Copy Share Image
“E ke menduar se po te largohesh kaq shume nga jeta njerezore, nga ajo qe ti me perbuzje e quan "malli i jetes", mund… — Ismail Kadaré Copy Share Image
“The pyramid is the pillar that holds power aloft. If it wavers,everything collapses.” — Ismail Kadare Copy Share Image
“My streets, my cistern. My old house. Its beams, floorboards and staircase creaked slightly, almost imperceptibly, with a dry, uniform, almost constant cracking sound.… — Ismail Kadare Copy Share Image
“Some people,” the Vizier went on, “think it’s the world of anxieties and dreams – your world, in short – that governs this one.… — Ismail Kadaré Copy Share Image
Who in the world has not yearned for a loved one, has never said, If only he or she could come back just once,… — Ismail Kadaré Copy Share Image
“Who can say it’s not what we see with our eyes open that is distorted, and that what’s described here isn’t the true essence… — Ismail Kadaré Copy Share Image
“Sunday had spread all over the city. It looked as if the sun had smacked into the earth and broken into pieces and chunks… — Ismail Kadare Copy Share Image
