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An Artisan Without Memories, Whose Only Dream Was To Die Of Fatigue In The Oblivion And Misery Of His Little Gold Fishes.

-Gabriel Garcia Marquez

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An Artisan Without Memories,

Gabriel Garcia Marquez

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An Artisan Without Memories, Whose Only Dream Was To Die Of Fatigue In The Oblivion And Misery Of His Little Gold Fishes.

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The Only Thing Worse Than Bad Health Is A Bad Name.

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Unfortunately Many Young Writers Are More Concerned With Fame Than With Their Own Work... It's Much More Important To Write Than To Be Written About.

Age Isn't How Old You Are But How Old You Feel.

He Allowed Himself To Be Swayed By His Conviction That Human Beings Are Not Born Once And For All On The Day Their Mothers Give Birth To Them, But That Life Obliges Them Over And Over Again To Give Birth To Themselves.

I Want The Same One, The Way She Always Is, Without Failures, Without Fights, Without Bad Memories.

It's Much More Important To Write Than To Be Written About.

But He Could Not Renounce His Infinite Capacity For Illusion At The Very Moment He Needed It Most... He Saw Fireflies Where There Were None.

Fernanda, On The Other Hand, Looked For It In Vain Along The Paths Of Her Everyday Itinerary Without Knowing That The Search For Lost Things Is Hindered By Routine Habits And That Is Why It Is So Difficult To Find Them.

That's Maybe The Reason He Does So Many Things So That He Will Not Have To Think .

In The End All Books Are Written For Your Friends. The Problem After Writing One Hundred Years Of Solitude Was That Now I No Longer Know Whom Of The Millions Of Readers I Am Writing For; This Upsets And Inhibits Me. It's Like A Million Eyes Are Looking At You And You Don't Really Know What They Think.

Always Tell What You Feel. Do What You Think.

In All The Houses Keys To Memorizing Objects And Feelings Had Been Written. But The System Demanded So Much Vigilance And Moral Strength That Many Succumbed To The Spell Of An Imaginary Reality, One Invented By Themselves, Which Was Less Practical For Them But More Comforting.

At Some Point, You No Longer Feel Pain. Sensation Disappears And Reason Is Dulled, Until You Lose All Grasp Of Time And Place.

In The End All Books Are Written For Your Friends.

One Hundred Years Of Solitude

Let Me Stay Here," He Said. "there Was Soap.

Blood Circulated Through Her Veins With The Fluidity Of A Song That Branched Off Into The Most Hidden Areas Of Her Body And Returned To Her Heart, Purified By Love.

Sex Is One's Consolation When Love Is Not Enough

It Was, At Last, Real Life, With My Heart Safe And Condemned To Die Of Happy Love In The Joyful Agony Of Any Day After My Hundredth Birthday.

He Said That People Who Loved [animals] To Excess Were Capable Of The Worst Cruelties Toward Human Beings. He Said That Dogs Were Not Loyal But Servile, That Cats Were Opportunists And Traitors, That Peacocks Were Heralds Of Death, That Macaws Were Simply Decorative Annoyances, That Rabbits Fomented Greed, That Monkeys Carried The Fever Of Lust, And That Roosters Were Damned Because They Had Been Complicit In The Three Denials Of Christ.

The Interpretation Of Our Reality Through Patterns Not Our Own, Serves Only To Make Us Ever More Unknown, Ever Less Free, Ever More Solitary.

She Had The Revelation One Sunday That While The Other Instruments Played For Everyone The Violen Played For Her Alone .

Over The Weekend The Vultures Got Into The Presidential Palace By Pecking Through The Screens On The Balcony Windows And The Flapping Of Their Wings Stirred Up The Stagnant Time Inside, And At Dawn On Monday The City Awoke Out Of Its Lethargy Of Centuries With The Warm, Soft Breeze Of A Great Man Dead And Rotting Grandeur.

We Had Made Love Without Love, Half-dressed Most Of The Time And Always In The Dark So We Could Imagine Ourselves As Better Than We Were.

What Matters In Life Is Not What Happens To You But What You Remember And How You Remember It.

Amputees Suffer Pains, Cramps, Itches In The Leg That Is No Longer There. That Is How She Felt Without Him, Feeling His Presence Where He No Longer Was.

All My Life, I've Been Frightened At The Moment I Sit Down To Write.

He Thought About His People Without Sentimentality, With A Strict Closing Of His Accounts With Life, Beginning To Understand How Much He Really Loved The People He Hated Most.

The Bells Of Glory That Announced To The World The Good News That The Uncountable Time Of Eternity Had Come To An End

The War Is In The Mountains,” He Said. “for As Long As I Can Remember, They Have Killed Us In The Cities With Decrees, Not With Bullets.

Aureliano Not Only Understood By Then, He Also Lived His Brother’s Experiences As Something Of His Own, For On One Occasion When The Latter Was Explaining In Great Detail The Mechanism Of Love, He Interrupted Him To Ask: “what Does It Feel Like?” José Arcadio Gave An Immediate Reply: “it’s Like An Earthquake.

He Thought That The World Would Make More Rapid Progress Without The Burden Of Old People.

A Lie Is More Comfortable Than Doubt, More Useful Than Love, More Lasting Than Truth.

One Hundred Years Of Solitude

Her Laugh Was Sad And Taciturn, Seemingly Detached From Any Feeling Of The Moment, Like Something She Kept In The Cupboard And Took Out Only When She Had To, Using It With No Feeling Of Ownership, As If The Infrequency Of Her Smiles Had Made Her Forget The Normal Way To Use Them.

A Short Time Later, When The Carpenter Was Taking Measurements For The Coffin, Through The Window They Saw A Light Rain Of Tiny Yellow Flowers Falling. They Fell On The Town All Through The Night In A Silent Storm, And They Covered The Roofs And Blocked The Doors And Smothered The Animals Who Slept Outdoors. So Many Flowers Fell From The Sky That In The Morning The Streets Were Carpeted With A Compact Cushion And They Had To Clear Them Away With Shovels And Rakes So That The Funeral Procession Could Pass By.

And It Was Always Without Pretensions Of Loving Or Being Loved Although Always In The Hope Of Finding Something That Resembled Love But Without The Problems Of Love.

Do Not Allow Me To Forget You

Nevertheless, No Matter How Much They Killed Themselves With Work, No Matter How Much Money They Eked Out, And No Matter How Many Schemes They Thought Of, Their Guardian Angels Were Asleep With Fatigue While They Put In Coins And Took Them Out Trying To Get Just Enough To Live With.

No Matter What, Nobody Can Take Away The Dances You've Already Had.

One Hundred Years Of Solitude

It Was The Year They Fell Into Devastating Love. Neither One Could Do Anything Except Think About The Other, Dream About The Other, And Wait For Letters With The Same Impatience They Felt When They Answered Them.

No Matter What You Do This Year Or In The Next Hundred, You Will Be Dead Forever.

Fame Is Very Agreeable, But The Bad Thing Is That It Goes On 24 Hours A Day.

His Examination Revealed That He Had No Fever, No Pain Anywhere, And That His Only Concrete Feeling Was An Urgent Desire To Die. All That Was Needed Was Shrewd Questioning...to Conclude Once Again That The Symptoms Of Love Were The Same As Those Of Cholera.

And The Two Of Them Loved Each Other For A Long Time In Silence Without Making Love Again.

A Person Does Not Belong To A Place Until There Is Someone Dead Under The Ground.

One Hundred Years Of Solitude

But That Afternoon He Asked Himself, With His Infinite Capacity For Illusion, If Such Pitiless Indifference Might Not Be A Subterfuge For Hiding The Torments Of Love.

Unrequited Love

I Have Learned That A Man Has The Right And Obligation To Look Down At Another Man, Only When That Man Needs Help To Get Up From The Ground.

The Truth Was That I Could Not Manage My Soul, And I Was Becoming Aware Of Old Age Because Of My Weakness In The Face Of Love.

The Only Virgos Left In The World Are People Like You Who Were Born In August.

What Does He Say?' He Asked. 'he’s Very Sad,’ Úrsula Answered, ‘because He Thinks That You’re Going To Die.' 'tell Him,' The Colonel Said, Smiling, 'that A Person Doesn’t Die When He Should But When He Can.

A Great Commotion Immobilized Her In Her Center Of Gravity, Planted Her In Her Place, And Her Defensive Will Was Demolished By The Irresistible Anxiety To Discover What The Orange Bells And Whistles And The Invisible Globes On The Other Side Of Death Were Like.

It Was Also Her Nature That Caused Her Letters To Avoid Emotional Pitfalls And Confine Themselves To Relating The Events Of Her Daily Life In The Utilitarian Style Of A Ship's Log. In Reality They Were Distracted Letters, Intended To Keep The Coals Alive Without Putting Her Hand In The Fire, While Florentino Ariza Burned Himself Alive In Every Line.

It Had To Teach Her To Think Of Love As A State Of Grace: Not The Means To Anything But The Alpha And Omega, An End It Itself.

The Problem With Marriage Is That It Ends Every Night After Making Love, And It Must Be Rebuilt Every Morning Before Breakfast.

Time Was Not Passing...it Was Turning In A Circle.

I Must Try And Break Through The Cliches About Latin America. Superpowers And Other Outsiders Have Fought Over Us For Centuries In Ways That Have Nothing To Do With Our Problems. In Reality We Are All Alone.

If You Love Something - Let. If It Is Yours - It Will Come Back. I Love You Not Because Of Who You Are, But For Who I Am When I'm With You.

One Night A Friend Lent Me A Book Of Short Stories By Franz Kafka. I Went Back To The Pension Where I Was Staying And Began To Read The Metamorphosis. The First Line Almost Knocked Me Off The Bed. I Was So Surprised. The First Line Reads, “as Gregor Samsa Awoke That Morning From Uneasy Dreams, He Found Himself Transformed In His Bed Into A Gigantic Insect. . . .” When I Read The Line I Thought To Myself That I Didn’t Know Anyone Was Allowed To Write Things Like That. If I Had Known, I Would Have Started Writing A Long Time Ago. So I Immediately Started Writing Short Stories.

Before Reaching The Final Line, However, He Had Already Understood That He Would Never Leave That Room, For It Was Foreseen That The City Of Mirrors (or Mirages) Would Be Wiped Out By The Wind And Exiled From The Memory Of Men At The Precise Moment When Aureliano Babilonia Would Finish Deciphering The Parchments, And That Everything Written On Them Was Unrepeatable Since Time Immemorial And Forever More, Because Races Condemned To One Hundred Years Of Solitude Did Not Have A Second Opportunity On Earth.

In Some Way Impossible To Ascertain, After So Many Years Of Absense, Jose Arcadio Was Still An Autumnal Child, Terribly Sad And Solitary.

There Had Never Been A Death So Foretold.

An Ash-gray Dog With A White Blaze On Its Forehead Burst Onto The Rough Terrain Of The Market On The First Sunday In December, Knocked Down Tables Of Fried Food, Overturned Indians' Stalls And Lottery Kiosks, And Bit Four People Who Happened To Cross Its Path.

The Only Difference Today Between Liberals And Conservatives Is That The Liberals Go To Mass At Five O'clock And The Conservatives At Eight.

From The Moment I Wrote 'leaf Storm' I Realized I Wanted To Be A Writer And That Nobody Could Stop Me And That The Only Thing Left For Me To Do Was To Try To Be The Best Writer In The World.

He Did Not Dare To Console Her, Knowing That It Would Have Been Like Consoling A Tiger Run Thru By A Spear.

Tricks You Need To Transform Something Which Appears Fantastic, Unbelievable Into Something Plausible, Credible, Those I Learned From Journalism. The Key Is To Tell It Straight. It Is Done By Reporters And By Country Folk.

If You're Going To Be A Writer You Have To Be One Of The Great Ones... After All, There Are Better Ways To Starve To Death.

Crazy People Are Not Crazy If One Accepts Their Reasoning.

One Hundred Years Of Solitude

His Mysterious Resources Had Awakened In Her A Curiosity That Was Difficult To Resist, But She Had Never Imagined That Curiosity Was One Of The Many Masks Of Love.

...and The Cries Of The Birds And The Uproar Of The Monkeys Became More And More Remote, And The World Became Eternally Sad. The Men On The Expedition Felt Overwhelmed By Their Most Ancient Memories In That Paradise Of Dampness And Silence, Going Back To Before Original Sin, As Their Boots Sank Into Pools Of Steaming Oil And Their Machetes Destroyed Bloody Lilies And Golden Salamanders.

No, Not Rich. I Am A Poor Man With Money, Which Is Not The Same Thing.

Invulnerable To Time, Dedicated To The Messianic Happiness Of Thinking For Us, Knowing That We Knew That He Would Not Take Any Decision For Us That Did Not Have Our Measure, For He Had Not Survived Everything Because Of His Inconceivable Courage Or His Infinite Prudence But Because He Was The Only One Among Us Who Knew The Real Size Of Our Destiny.

The Only Thing He Could Do To Stay Alive Was Not To Allow Himself The Anguish Of That Memory. He Erased It From His Mind, Although From Time To Time In The Years That Were Left To Him He Would Feel It Revive, With No Warning And For No Reason, Like The Sudden Pang Of An Old Scar.

Perhaps This Is What The Stories Meant When They Called Somebody Heartsick. Your Heart And Your Stomach And Your Whole Insides Felt Empty And Hollow And Aching.

Florentina Ariza Had Kept His Answer Ready For Fifty-three Years, Seven Months And Eleven Days And Nights. 'forever,' He Said.

I Plead Youth As A Mitigating Circumstance.

It Is Impossible To Explain. But What I Like Most Is To Eat.

Jose Palacios, His Oldest Servant, Found Him Floating Naked With His Eyes Open In The Purifying Waters Of His Bath And Thought He Had Drowned.

There's No Greater Misfortune Than Dying Alone.

Morality, Too, Is A Question Of Time.

In That Macondo Forgotten Even By The Birds, Where The Dust And The Heat Had Become So Strong That It Was Difficult To Breathe, Secluded By Solitude And Love And By The Solitude Of Love In A House Where It Was Almost Impossible To Sleep Because Of The Noise Of The Red Ants, Aureliano, And Amaranta Úrsula Were The Only Happy Beings, And The Most Happy On The Face Of The Earth.

He Soon Acquired The Forlorn Look That One Sees In Vegetarians.

One Hundred Years Of Solitude

He Always Considered Death An Unavoidable Professional Hazard.

She Knew That He Loved Her Above All Else, More Than Anything In The World, But Only For His Own Sake.

He Was Carrying A Suitcase With Clothing In Order To Stay And Another Just Like It With Almost Two Thousand Letters That She Had Written Him. They Were Arranged By Date In Bundles Ties With Colored Ribbons, And They Were All Unopened.

There Is Always Something Left To Love.

It Always Amuses Me That The Biggest Praise For My Work Comes For The Imagination, While The Truth Is That There's Not A Single Line In All My Work That Does Not Have A Basis In Reality. The Problem Is That Caribbean Reality Resembles The Wildest Imagination.

It Was The Last That Remained Of A Past Whose Annihilation Had Not Taken Place Because It Was Still In A Process Of Annihilation, Consuming Itself From Within, Ending At Every Moment But Never Ending Its Ending.

The World Is Divided Into Those Who Screw And Those Who Do Not. He Distrusted Those Who Did Not—when They Strayed Form The Straight And Narrow It Was Something So Unusual For Them That They Bragged About Love As If They Had Just Invented It.

The More Transparent The Writing, The More Visible The Poetry.

Hate And Love Are Reciprocal Passions.

In The Beginning, When The World Was New And Nothing Had A Name, My Father Took Me To See The Ice.

Jealousy Knows More Than Truth Does.

Faulkner Is A Writer Who Has Had Much To Do With My Soul, But Hemingway Is The One Who Had The Most To Do With My Craft - Not Simply For His Books, But For His Astounding Knowledge Of The Aspect Of Craftsmanship In The Science Of Writing.

This Soup Tastes Like Windows

How Strange Women Are.

He Was Weary Of The Uncertainty Of The Vicious Circle Of That Eternal War That Always Found Him In The Same Place, But Always Older, Wearier, Even More In The Position Of Not Knowing Why, Or How, Or Even When.

I Ask Myself How I Could Give In To This Perpetual Vertigo That I In Fact Provoked And Feared. I Floated Among Erratic Clouds And Talked To Myself In Front Of The Mirror In The Vain Hope Of Confirming Who I Was. My Delirium Was So Great That During A Student Demonstration Complete With Rocks And Bottles, I Had To Make An Enormous Effort Not To Lead It As I Held Up A Sign That Would Sanctify My Truth: I Am Mad With Love.

Just Because Someone Does Not Love You As You Want, It Does Not Mean That You Do Not Love With All His Being.

Then The Writing Became So Fluid That I Sometimes Felt As If I Were Writing For The Sheer Pleasure Of Telling A Story, Which May Be The Human Condition That Most Resembles Levitation.

The Only Regret I Will Have In Dying Is If It Is Not For Love.

The First Of The Line Is Tied To A Tree And The Last Is Being Eaten By The Ants .

It Is Not True That People Stop Pursuing Dreams Because They Grow Old, They Grow Old Because They Stop Pursuing Dreams.

There Is Bound To Be Someone Driven Mad By Love Who Will Give You The Chance To Study The Effects Of Gold Cyanide On A Cadaver. And When You Do Find One, Observe With Care, They Almost Always Have Crystals In Their Heart

It Was A Meditation On Life, Love, Old Age, Death: Ideas That Had Often Fluttered Around Her Head Like Nocturnal Birds But Dissolved Into A Trickle Of Feathers When She Tried To Catch Hold Of Them.

She Let Him Finish, Scratching His Head With The Tips Of Her Fingers, And Without His Having Revealed That He Was Weeping From Love, She Recognized Immediately The Oldest Sobs In The History Of Man.

If Men Gave Birth, They'd Be Less Inconsiderate.

Become A Better Person And Be Sure To Know Who You Are, Before Meeting Someone New And Hoping That Person Knows Who You Are

Meeting Someone

She Asked Him To Come And See Her That Night. He Agreed, In Order To Get Away, Knowing That He Was Incapable Of Going. But That Night, In His Burning Bed, He Understood That He Had To Go See Her, Even If He Were Not Capable. He Got Dressed By Feel, Listening In The Dark To His Brother's Calm Breathing, The Dry Cough Of His Father In The Next Room, The Asthma Of The Hens In The Courtyard, The Buzz Of The Mosquitoes, The Beating Of His Heart, And The Inordinate Bustle Of A World That He Had Not Noticed Until Then, And He Went Out In The Sleeping Street.

The Truth Is That I Know Very Few Novelists Who Have Been Satisfied With The Adaptation Of Their Books For The Screen.

Nothing In This World Was More Difficult Than Love.

She Would Say, "someone Should Invent Something To Do With Things You Cannot Use Anymore But That You Still Cannot Throw Out.

She Felt The Abyss Of Disenchantment.

Then He Knew That They Had Rounded The Cape Of Good Hope, And He Took Her Large, Soft Hand Again And Covered It With Forlorn Little Kisses, First The Hard Metacarpus, The Long, Discerning Fingers, The Diaphanous Nails, And Then The Hieroglyphics Of Her Destiny On Her Perspiring Palm.

All Human Beings Have Three Lives: Public, Private, And Secret.

One Hundred Years Of Solitude

Never Stop Smiling Not Even When You're Sad, Someone Might Fall In Love With Your Smile.

Falling In Love

It's Enough For Me To Be Sure That You And I Exist At This Moment.

I Was Asked The Other Day If I Would Be Interested In The Nobel Prize, But I Think That For Me It Would Be An Absolute Catastrophe. I Would Certainly Be Interested In Deserving It, But To Receive It Would Be Terrible. It Would Just Complicate Even More The Problems Of Fame. The Only Thing I Really Regret In Life Is Not Having A Daughter.

Cease, Cows, Life Is Short.

It Is Not That The Girl Is Unfit For Everything, It Is That She Is Not Of This World.

For Those Who May Be Hurting Over Lost Love: Don't Cry Because It Is Over... Smile Because It Happened.

When I Sit Down To Write, Which Is The Essential Moment In My Life, I Am Completely Alone. Whenever I Write A Book, I Accumulate A Lot Of Documentation. That Background Material Is The Most Intimate Part Of My Private Life. It's A Little Embarrassing - Like Being Seen In Your Underwear It's Like The Way Magicians Never Tell Others How They Make A Dove Come Out Of A Hat.

He Dared To Explore Her Withered Neck W/his Fingertips…her Hips W/their Decaying Bones, Her Thighs With Their Aging Veins.

And Again, As Always, After So Many Years We Were Still In The Same Place We Always Were.

His Place Was Always Set At The Table, In Case He Rturned From The Dead Without Warning .

An Artisan Without Memories, Whose Only Dream Was To Die Of Fatigue In The Oblivion And Misery Of His Little Gold Fishes.

She Always Had A Headache, Or It Was Too Hot, Always, Or She Pretended To Be Asleep, Or She Had Her Period Again, Her Period, Always Her Period. So Much So That Dr. Urbino Had Dared To Say In Class, Only For The Relief Of Unburdening Himself Without Confession, That After Ten Years Of Marriage Women Had Their Periods As Often As Threes Times A Week.

I Would Not Have Traded The Delights Of My Suffering For Anything In The World.

Although Some Men Who Were Easy With Their Words Said That It Was Worth Sacrificing One’s Life For A Night Of Love With Such An Arousing Woman, The Truth Was That No One Made Any Effort To Do So. Perhaps, Not Only To Attain Her But Also To Conjure Away Her Dangers, All That Was Needed Was A Feeling As Primitive And As Simple As That Of Love, But That Was The Only Thing That Did Not Occur To Anyone.

She Was Lost In Her Longing To Understand.

Santiago Nasar Had Often Told Me That The Smell Of Closed-in Flowers Had An Immediate Relation To Death For Him.

Wherever They Might Be They Always Remember That The Past Was A Lie, That Memory Has No Return, That Every Spring Gone By Could Never Be Recovered, And That The Wildest And Most Tenacious Love Was An Ephemeral Truth In The End.

One Can Be In Love With Several People At The Same Time, Feel The Sorrow With Each, And Not Betray Any Of Them.

Between The Covers Of The Books That No One Had Ever Read Again, In The Old Parchments Damaged By Dampness, A Livid Flower Had Prospered, And In The Air That Had Been The Purest And Brightest In The House An Unbearable Smell Of Rotten Memories Floated.

He Was Still Too Young To Know That The Heart's Memory Eliminates The Bad And Magnifies The Good, And That Thanks To This Artifice We Manage To Endure The Burden Of The Past.

My Most Important Problem Was Destroying The Lines Of Demarcation That Separate What Seems Real From What Seems Fantastic.

It Is Life, More Than Death, That Has No Limits.

Gaston Was Not Only A Fierce Lover, With Endless Wisdom And Imagination, But He Was Also, Perhaps, The First Man In The History Of The Species Who Had Made An Emergency Landing And Had Come Close To Killing Himself And His Sweetheart Simply To Make Love In A Field Of Violets.

It Was As If They Had Leapt Over The Arduous Cavalry Of Conjugal Life And Gone Straight To The Heart Of Love. They Were Together In Silence Like An Old Married Couple Wary Of Life, Beyond The Pitfalls Of Passion, Beyond The Brutal Mockery Of Hope And The Phantoms Of Disillusion: Beyond Love. For They Had Lived Together Long Enough To Know That Love Was Always Love, Anytime And Anyplace, But It Was More Solid The Closer It Came To Death.

Lost In The Solitude Of His Immense Power, He Began To Lose Direction.

What Uncle Leo Xiii Never Suspected Was That His Nephew's Courage Did Not Come From The Need To Survive Or From A Brute Indifference Inherited From His Father, But From A Driving Need For Love, Which No Obstacle In This World Or The Next Would Ever Break.

Life Is Not What One Lived, But What One Remembers And How One Remembers It In Order To Recount It

Knowledge And Power

The Adolescents Of My Generation, Greedy For Life, Forgot In Body And Soul About Their Hopes For The Future Until Reality Taught Them That Tomorrow Was Not What They Had Dreamed, And They Discovered Nostalgia.

Humanity, Like Armies In The Field, Advances At The Speed Of The Slowest.

Four Geological Eras Had To Pass So That Human Beings Would Be Able To Outsing The Birds And Die For Love.

This Was When She Asked Him Whether It Was True That Love Conquered All, As The Songs Said. 'it Is True', He Replied, 'but You Would Do Well Not To Believe It.

Injections Are The Best Thing Ever Invented For Feeding Doctors.

Always Remember That The Most Important Thing In A Good Marriage Is Not Happiness, But Stability.

It Was A Lone Voice In The Middle Of The Ocean, But It Was Heard At Great Depth And Great Distance.

He Sank Into The Rocking Chair, The Same One In Which Rebecca Had Sat During The Early Days Of The House To Give Embroidery Lessons, And In Which Amaranta Had Played Chinese Checkers With Colonel Gerineldo Marquez, And In Which Amarana Ursula Had Sewn The Tiny Clothing For The Child, And In That Flash Of Lucidity He Became Aware That He Was Unable To Bear In His Soul The Crushing Weight Of So Much Past.

With Her Florentino Ariza Learned What He Had Already Experienced Many Times Without Realizing It: That One Can Be In Love With Several People At The Same Time, Feel The Same Sorrow With Each, And Not Betray Any Of Them. Alone In The Midst Of The Crowd On The Pier, He Said To Himself In A Flash Of Anger: 'my Heart Has More Rooms Than A Whorehouse.

Horses Frighten Me As Much As Chickens Do,’ He Said. ‘that Is Too Bad, Because Lack Of Communication With Horses Has Impeded Human Progress,’ Said Abrenuncio. ‘if We Ever Broke Down The Barriers, We Could Produce The Centaur.

The Only Everyday And Eternal Reality Was Love.

Life In The World... Was Nothing More Than A System Of Atavistic Contracts, Banal Ceremonies, Preordained Words, With Which People Entertained Each Other In Society In Order Not To Commit Murder. The Dominant Sign In That Paradise Of Provincial Frivolity Was Fear Of The Unknown.

Fame Invades Your Private Life. It Takes Away From The Time That You Spend With Friends, And The Time That You Can Work. It Tends To Isolate You From The Real World.

A Famous Writer Who Wants To Continue Writing Has To Be Constantly Defending Himself Against Fame.

[the Captain] Looked At Florentino Ariza, His Invincible Power, His Intrepid Love And Was Overwhelmed By The Belated Suspicion That It Is Life, More Than Death, That Has No Limits.

To Oppression, Plundering And Abandonment, We Respond With Life.

You Have To Have Spent The Night At Sea, Sitting In A Life Raft And Looking At Your Watch, To Know That The Night Is Immeasurably Longer Than The Day.

Shame Has Poor Memory.

She Searched The Truth With An Anguish Almost As Great As Her Terrible Fear Of Finding It .

Be Calm. God Awaits You At The Door.

Her Heart Of Compressed Ash, Which Had Resisted The Most Telling Blows Of Daily Reality Without Strain, Fell Apart With The First Waves Of Nostalgia.

In Her Final Years She Would Still Recall The Trip That, With The Perverse Lucidity Of Nostalgia, Became More And More Recent In Her Memory.

Ultimately, Literature Is Nothing But Carpentry. With Both You Are Working With Reality, A Material Just As Hard As Wood.

But He Only Found Her In The Image That Saturated His Private And Terrible Solitude.

El Mundo Habrá Acabado De Joderse -dijo Entonces- El Día En Que Los Hombres Viajen En Primera Clase Y La Literatura En El Vagón De Carga.

Curiosity Is One Of The Many Masks Of Love.

I Would Give Wings To Children, But I Would Leave It To Them To Learn How To Fly By Themselves.

They Were So Close To Each Other That They Preferred Death To Separation.

One Hundred Years Of Solitude

The Truth Is I'm Getting Old, I Said. We Already Are Old, She Said With A Sigh. What Happens Is That You Don't Feel It On The Inside, But From The Outside Everybody Can See It.

Her First Reaction Was One Of Hope, Because His Eyes Were Open And Shining With A Radiant Light She Had Never Seen There Before. She Prayed To God To Give Him At Least A Moment So That He Would Not Go Without Knowing How Much She Had Love Him Despite All Their Doubts, And She Felt An Irresistible Longing To Begin Life With Him Over Again So That They Could Say What They Had Left Unsaid And Do Everything Right That They Had Done Badly In The Past. But She Had To Give In To The Intransigence Of Death. (love In The Time Of Cholera)

He Pleaded So Much That He Lost His Voice. His Bones Began To Fill With Words.

Both Described At The Same Time How It Was Always March There And Always Monday, And Then They Understood That José Arcadio Buendía Was Not As Crazy As The Family Said, But That He Was The Only One Who Had Enough Lucidity To Sense The Truth Of The Fact That Time Also Stumbled And Had Accidents And Could Therefore Splinter And Leave An Eternalized Fragment In A Room.

What Is Essential, Therefore, Is Not That You No Longer Believe, But That God Continues To Believe In You.

Just Imagine, A Cow On The Balcony Of The Nation, What An Awful Thing, What A Shitty Country.

Then He Made One Last Effort To Search In His Heart For The Place Where His Affection Had Rotted Away, And He Could Not Find It.

Don't Open That Door," She Said. "the Hallway Is Full Of Difficult Dreams." And I Asked Her: "how Do You Know?" And She Told Me: "because I Was There A Moment Ago And I Had To Come Back When I Discovered I Was Sleeping On My Heart.

Ah, Me, If This Is Love, Then How It Torments.

I Don't Have A Method. All I Do Is Read A Lot, Think A Lot, And Rewrite Constantly. It's Not A Scientific Thing.

She Knew That It Would Not Be Easy To Submit To His Miserliness, Or The Foolishness Of His Premature Appearance Of Age, Or His Maniacal Sense Of Order, Or His Eagerness To As For Everything And Give Nothing At All In Return, But Despite All This, No Man Was Better Company Because No Other Man In The World Was So In Need Of Love.

A Process Of Aging Had Taken Place In Him That Was So Rapid And Critical That Soon He Was Being Treated As One Of Those Useless Great-grandfathers Who Wander About The Bedroom Like Shades, Dragging Their Feet, Remembering Better Times Aloud, And Whom No One Bother About Or Remembers Really Until The Morning They Find Them Dead In Their Bed.

I Think That The Idea That I'm Writing For Many More People Than I Ever Imagined Has Created A Certain General Responsibility That Is Literary And Political. There's Even Pride Involved, In Not Wanting To Fall Short Of What I Did Before.

Make No Mistake: Peaceful Madmen Are Ahead Of The Future.

He Governed As If He Felt Predestined To Never Die

When I Stand And Contemplate My Fate And See The Path Along Which You Have Led Me, I Reach My End, For Artless I Surrendered To One Who Is My Undoing And My End.

And Both Of Them Remained Floating In An Empty Universe Where The Only Everyday & Eternal Reality Was Love.

Today, When I Saw You, I Realized That What Is Between Us Is Nothing More Than An Illusion.

Don't Struggle So Much, The Best Things Happen When Not Expected.

This Was His World, He Said To Himself, The Sad, Oppressive World That God Had Provided For Him, And He Was Responsible To It.

An Early-rising Man Is A Good Spouse But A Bad Husband.

And Nevertheless, When They Watched Him Leave The House, This Man They Themselves Had Urged To Conquer The World, Then They Were The Ones Left With The Terror That He Would Never Return. That Was Their Life. Love, If It Existed, Was Something Separate: Another Life.

Give Me A Prejudice And I Will Move The World.

Wisdom Comes To Us When It Can No Longer Do Any Good.

When You Have A Healthy Appetite There Is No Such Thing As Bad Bread.

Old People, With Other Old People, Are Not So Old.

The People Of The United States Are One Of The People I Most Admire In The World. The Only Thing I Don't Understand Is Why A Country That Manages To Do So Well Cannot Do Better In Choosing Its President.

I Don't Know Who Said That Novelists Read The Novels Of Others Only To Figure Out How They Are Written. I Believe It's True. We Aren't Satisfied With The Secrets Exposed On The Surface Of The Page: We Turn The Book Around To Find The Seams.

He Really Had Been Through Death, But He Had Returned Because He Could Not Bear The Solitude.

One Hundred Years Of Solitude

The Rain Would Not Have Bothered Fernanda, After All, Her Whole Life Had Been Spent As If It Were Raining.

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