Sabahattin Ali

Last night he’d said to me, ‘We never got the chance to sit down and talk.’ But now I knew differently. Last night we’d spoken for many long hours.
That same night, he’d left his life behind and entered mine. And there he would remain, truly alive – more so than anyone I’d ever known. Wherever I went, he’d be there at my side.
When I got to the office, I sat down at Raif Efendi’s empty desk. Placing his black notebook before me, I turned back to the first page.

Send a hero into a dragon’s den, and his task is clear. It is a hero of another order who can summon up the courage to lower himself into a well of which we have no knowledge.

And here was the strangest thing: the more my situation worsened, the less I could be sure of surviving from one day to the next, the greater my shame and my reluctance to ask for help.

The more I needed my friends, the more I longed to run away.

He seemed so confident, so pleased with himself.

Every failed job application drained me of all hope, even when I knew from the outset that my chances were nil;

When misfortune visits those who once walked alongside us, we do tend to feel relief, almost as if we believe we have ourselves been spared, and as we come to convince ourselves that they are suffering in our stead, we feel for these wretched

in our stead, we feel for these wretched creatures

how empty pursuits like literature could do nothing but harm once your schooldays were behind you.

Can there be any sweeter intoxication than exerting power and authority over one of your own kind?