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 anywher…

- Ismail Kadaré

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

- Ismail Kadaré

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 an…

- Ismail Kadaré

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 …

- Ismail Kadaré

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 thought…

- Ismail Kadaré

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 we…

- Ismail Kadaré

An Albanian’s house is the dwelling of God and the guest.’ Of God and the guest, you see. So before it is the house of its master, it is the house of…

- Ismail Kadaré

The writer is always to some extent in exile, wherever he is, because he is somehow outside, separated from others; there is always a distance.

- Ismail Kadaré

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 …

- Ismail Kadaré