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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.

-Gabriel Garcia Marquez

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An Ash-gray Dog With

Gabriel Garcia Marquez

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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.

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More From Gabriel Garcia Marquez

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.

A Falcon Who Chases A Warlike Crane Can Only Hope For A Life Of Pain.

When One Reaches Absolute Power, One Loses Total Contact With Reality.

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

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

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

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

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

Knowledge And Power

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.

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

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

I Do Not Believe There Is A Method Better Than Montessori For Making Children Sensitive To The Beauties Of The World And Awakening Their Curiosity Regarding The Secrets Of Life.

She Would Walk Through The Kitchen At Any Hour, Whenever She Was Hungry, And Put Her Fork In The Pots And Eat A Little Of Everything Without Placing Anything On A Plate, Standing In Front Of The Stove, Talking To The Serving Women, Who Were The Only Ones With Whom She Felt Comfortable, The Ones She Got Along With Best.

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

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

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.

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.

Hate And Love Are Reciprocal Passions.

I Always Had Understood That Dying Of Love Was Mere Poetic License.

In That Way The Long-awaited Visit, For Which Both Had Prepared Questions And Had Even Anticipated Answers, Was Once More The Usual Everyday Conversation.

Most Critics Don't Realize That A Novel Like One Hundred Years Of Solitude Is A Bit Of A Joke, Full Of Signals To Close Friends; And So, With Some Pre-ordained Right To Pontificate They Take On The Responsibility Of Decoding The Book And Risk Making Terrible Fools Of Themselves.

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 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.

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

It Was A Love Of Perpetual Flight.

If God Hadn't Rested On Sunday, He Would Have Had Time To Finish The World.

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

Taught Him The Only Thing He Had To Learn About Love: That Nobody Teaches Life Anything.

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.

This Was When I Heard That The First Symptom Of Old Age Is When You Begin To Resemble Your Father.

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.

She Sensed It, Saw My Eyes Wet With Tears, And Only Then Must Have Discovered I Was No Longer The Man I Had Been, And I Endured Her Glance With A Courage I Never Thought I Had.

Races Condemned To 100 Years Of Solitude Did Not Have A Second Opportunity On Earth.

He Recognized Her Despite The Uproar, Through His Tears Of Unrepeatable Sorrow At Dying Without Her, And He Looked At Her For The Last And Final Time With Eyes More Luminous, More Grief-stricken, More Grateful Than She Had Ever Seen Them In Half A Century Of A Shared Life, And He Managed To Say To Her With His Last Breath: “only God Knows How Much I Loved You

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.

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.

If You Lie Down In A Village Square Hoping To Capture A Sea Gull, You Could Stay There Your Whole Life Without Succeeding. But A Hundred Miles From Shore It's Different. Sea Gulls Have A Highly Developed Instinct For Self-preservation On Land But At Sea They're Very Cocky.

As A Writer I'm Merely A Journalist Who Has Learned To Write Better Than Others.

"things Have A Life Of Their Own," The Gypsy Proclaimed With A Harsh Accent. "it's Simply A Matter Of Waking Up Their Souls."

Love Is Not A Condition Of The Spirit But A Sign Of The Zodiac.

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.

I Would Like For My Books To Have Been Recognized Posthumously, At Least In Capitalist Countries, Where They Turn You Into A Kind Of Merchandise.

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

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

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

Jealousy Knows More Than Truth Does.

How Strange Women Are.

Because He Had Not Done What She, With Her Heart In Her Mouth, Had Hoped He Would Do, Which Was To Be A Man: Deny Everything, And Swear On His Life It Was Not True, And Grow Indignant At The False Accusation, And Shout Curses At This Ill-begotten Society That Did Not Hesitate To Trample On One's Honor, And Remain Imperturbable Even When Forced With Crushing Proofs Of His Disloyalty.

Ultimately, Literature Is Nothing But Carpentry.

In The End All Books Are Written For Your Friends.

One Hundred Years Of Solitude

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

One Hundred Years Of Solitude

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 Thing Worse Than Bad Health Is A Bad Name.

A Man Should Have Two Wives: One To Love And One To Sew On His Buttons.

She Would Not Shed A Tear, She Would Not Waste The Rest Of Her Years Simmering In The Maggot Broth Of Memory.

One Minute Of Reconciliation Is Worth More Than A Whole Life Of Friendship!

Forgive And Forget

One Hundred Years Of Solitude

He Spent Six Hours Examining Things, Trying To Find A Difference From Their Appearance On The Previous Day In The Hope Of Discovering In Them Some Change That Would Reveal The Passage Of Time.

Carmelia Montiel, A Twenty-year-old Virgin, Had Just Bathed In Orange-blossom Water And Was Strewing Rosemary Leaves On Pilar Ternera's Bed When The Shot Rang Out. Aureliano José Had Been Destined To Find With Her The Happiness That Amaranta Had Denied Him, To Have Seven Children, And To Die In Her Arms Of Old Age, But The Bullet That Entered His Back And Shattered His Chest Had Been Directed By A Wrong Interpretation Of The Cards.

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

Tell Him,' The Colonel Said, Smiling, 'that A Person Doesn’t Die When He Should But When He Can.

One Hundred Years Of Solitude

The Problem In Public Life Is Learning To Overcome Terror; The Problem In Married Life Is Learning To Overcome Boredom.

For A Week I Did Not Take Off My Mechanic's Coverall Day Or Night I Did Not Bathe Or Shave Or Brush My Teeth Because Love Taught Me Too Late That You Groom Yourself For Someone You Dress And Perfume Yourself For Someone And I'd Never Had Anyone To Do That For.

He Governed As If He Felt Predestined To Never Die

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

There Was No Sleeper More Elegant Than She, With Her Curved Body Posed For A Dance And Her Hand Across Her Forehead, But There Was Also No One More Ferocious When Anyone Disturbed The Sensuality Of Her Thinking She Was Still Asleep When She No Longer Was.

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

Children's Lies Are Signs Of Great Talent.

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

It Was Then That She Realized That The Yellow Butterflies Preceded The Appearances Of Mauricio Babilonia.

One Never Quite Stops Believing, Some Doubt Remains Forever".

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.

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.

I Have Never Done Anything Except Write, But I Don't Possess The Vocation Or Talents Of A Narrator, Have No Knowledge At All Of The Laws Of Dramatic Composition, And If I Have Embarked Upon This Enterprise It Is Because I Trust In The Light Shed By How Much I Have Read In My Life.

To All, I Would Say How Mistaken They Are When They Think That They Stop Falling In Love When They Grow Old, Without Knowing That They Grow Old When They Stop Falling In Love...

Falling In Love

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.

He Was Healthier Than The Rest Of Us, But When You Listened With The Stethoscope You Could Hear The Tears Bubbling Inside His Heart.

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

The World Was Reduced To The Surface Of Her Skin And Her Inner Self Was Safe From All Bitterness.

Justice Limps Along, But Gets There All The Same.

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

Dr Urbino Did Not Agree: In His Opinion A Liberal President Was Exactly The Same As A Conservative President, But Not As Well Dressed.

Her Nakedness Was Not Absolute, For Like Manet's _olympia__, Behind Her Ear She Had A Poisonous Flower With Orange Petals, And She Also Wore A Gold Bangle On Her Right Wrist And A Necklace Of Tiny Pearls. I Imagined I Would Never See Anything More Exciting For As Long As I Lived, And Today I Can Confirm That I Was Right.

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.

Little By Little, Studying The Infinite Possibilities Of A Loss Of Memory, He Realized That The Day Might Come When Things Would Be Recognized By Their Inscriptions But That No One Would Remember Their Use.... At The Beginning Of The Road Into The Swamp They Put Up A Sign That Said "macondo" And Another Larger One On The Main Street That Said "god Exists".

But When A Woman Decides To Sleep With A Man, There Is No Wall She Will Not Scale, No Fortress She Will Not Destroy, No Moral Consideration She Will Not Ignore At Its Very Root: There Is No God Worth Worrying About.

They Looked Like Two Children," She Told Me. And That Thought Frightened Her, Because She'd Always Felt That Only Children Are Capable Of Everything.

Seeing Him Like This, Dressed Just For Her In So Patent A Manner, She Could Not Hold Back The Fiery Blush That Rose To Her Face. She Was Embarrassed When She Greeted Him, And He Was More Embarrassed By Her Embarrassment. The Knowledge That They Were Behaving As If They Were Sweethearts Was Even More Embarrassing, And The Knowledge That They Were Both Embarrassed Embarrassed Them So Much That Captain Samaritano Noticed It With A Tremor Of Compassion.

I Think Just The Opposite Is True: Love Is An Ideology For Eternal Militants, And The More Misfortunes Life Tries To Burden Us With, The More Essential Love Becomes.

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

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

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.

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.

Sex Is The Consolation You Have When You Can't Have Love.

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

One Hundred Years Of Solitude

Thinking That It Would Console Him, She Took A Piece Of Charcoal And Erased The Innumerable Loves That He Still Owed Her For, And She Voluntarily Brought Up Her Own Most Solitary Sadnesses So As Not To Leave Him Alone In His Weeping.

Shame Has Poor Memory.

I Discovered The Miracle That All Things That Sound Are Music, Including The Dishes And Silverware In The Dishwasher, As Long As They Fulfill The Illusion Of Showing Us Where Life Is Heading.

We'll Grow Old Waiting.

[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.

Only God Knows How Much I Love You.

I Discovered That My Obsession For Having Each Thing In The Right Place, Each Subject At The Right Time, Each Word In The Right Style, Was Not The Well-deserved Reward Of An Ordered Mind, But Just The Opposite: A Complete System Of Pretense Invented By Me To Hide The Disorder Of My Nature.

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

The Only Everyday And Eternal Reality Was Love.

Death Really Did Not Matter To Him But Life Did, And Therefore The Sensation He Felt When They Gave Their Decision Was Not A Feeling Of Fear But Of Nostalgia.

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.

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.

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.

Be Calm. God Awaits You At The Door.

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

There Is No Greater Glory Than To Die For Love.

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.

Curiosity Is One Of The Many Masks Of Love.

A True Friend Is The One Who Holds Your Hand And Touches Your Heart.

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.

When I Wake Up," He Said, "remind Me That I'm Going To Marry Her.

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.

One Of The Most Difficult Things Is The First Paragraph. I Have Spent Many Months On A First Paragraph, And Once I Get It, The Rest Just Comes Out Very Easily.

Love Becomes Greater And Nobler In Calamity.

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

One Hundred Years Of Solitude

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

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.

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.

Even When The Winds Of Misfortune Blow, Amazing Things Can Still Happen.

Nobody Deserves Your Tears, But Whoever Deserves Them Will Not Make You Cry.

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

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.

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.

When He Went Through The Kitchen He Kissed Rebeca On The Forehead. "get Those Bad Thoughts Out Of Your Head," He Told Her. "you're Going To Be Happy.

The Weak Would Never Enter The Kingdom Of Love.

If I Knew That Today Would Be The Last Time I’d See You, I Would Hug You Tight And Pray The Lord Be The Keeper Of Your Soul. If I Knew That This Would Be The Last Time You Pass Through This Door, I’d Embrace You, Kiss You, And Call You Back For One More. If I Knew That This Would Be The Last Time I Would Hear Your Voice, I’d Take Hold Of Each Word To Be Able To Hear It Over And Over Again. If I Knew This Is The Last Time I See You, I’d Tell You I Love You, And Would Not Just Assume Foolishly You Know It Already.

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.

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

Your First Realization When You Become An Important Person Is That All Day And All Night, Whatever The Circumstances, People Want To Hear You Talk About Yourself.

I Don't Believe In God, But I'm Afraid Of Him.

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

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

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

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.

The Fact Is That Being Seductive Is An Addiction That Can Never Be Satisfied.

She Was A Ghost In A Strange House That Overnight Had Become Immense And Solitary And Through Which She Wandered Without Purpose, Asking Herself In Anguish Which One Of Them Was Deader: The Man Who Had Died Or The Woman He Had Left Behind.

She Would Defend Herself, Saying That Love, No Matter What Else It Might Be, Was A Natural Talent. She Would Say: You Are Either Born Knowing How, Or You Never Know.

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

The Spirit Of Her Invincible Heart Guided Her Through The Shadows.

Love Does Not Die, When Someone Gets Old, People Get Old, Because They Can Not Love Anymore.

The Year I Turned Ninety, I Wanted To Give Myself The Gift Of A Night Of Wild Love With An Adolescent Virgin.

Crazy People Are Not Crazy If One Accepts Their Reasoning.

One Hundred Years Of Solitude

It Was The Time When They Loved Each Other Best, Without Hurry Or Excess, When Both Were Most Conscious Of And Grateful For Their Incredible Victories Over Adversity.

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.

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.

He Repeated Until His Dying Day That There Was No One With More Common Sense, No Stonecutter More Obstinate, No Manager More Lucid Or Dangerous, Than A Poet.

There [is] No Innocence More Dangerous Than The Innocence Of Age.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

He Would Wake For No Reason In The Middle Of The Night, And The Memory Of The Self-absorbed Love Was Revealed To Him For What It Was: A Pitfall Of Happiness That He Despised And Desired At The Same Time, But From Which It Was Impossible To Escape.

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

People Spend A Lifetime Thinking Abouthow They Would Really Like To Live. I Asked My Friends And No One Seems To Know Very Clearly. To Me, It's Very Clear Now. I Wish My Life Could Have Been Like The Years When I Was Writing 'love In The Time Of Cholera.'

He Shook My Hand And Said Goodbye With A Sentence That Might Have Been Either Good Advice Or A Threat: "take Good Care Of Yourself.

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.

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

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

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

I Must Warn You That The Books I Like Are Not Necessarily The Ones I Think Are The Best. I Like Them For Various Reasons Not Always Easy To Explain.

She Felt So Old, So Worn Out, So Far Away From The Best Moments Of Her Life That She Even Yearned For Those That She Remembered As The Worst… 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. The Need To Feel Sad Was Becoming A Vice As The Years Eroded Her. She Became Human In Her Solitude.

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.

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.

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

One Had To Live A Long Time To Know A Man's True Nature.

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.

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

Why Were You So Old When We Met? I Answered With The Truth: Age Isn't How Old You Are But How Old You Feel.

I’ve Remained A Virgin For 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.

It Was Inevitable: The Scent Of Bitter Almonds Always Reminded Him Of The Fate Of Unrequited Love.

Unrequited Love

Give Me A Prejudice And I Will Move The World.

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

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

Falling In Love

There's No Greater Misfortune Than Dying Alone.

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.

As I Kissed Her The Heat Of Her Body Increased, And It Exhaled A Wild, Untamed Fragrance.

She Had Never Imagined That Curiosty Was One Of The Many Masks Of Love .

Most Fatal Diseases Had Their Own Specific Odor, But ... None Was As Specific As Old Age.

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

There Had Never Been A Death So Foretold.

The House Became Full Of Love. Aureliano Expressed It In Poetry That Had No Beginning And No End. He Would Write It On The Harsh Pieces Of Parchment That Melquiades Gave Him, On The Bathroom Walls, On The Skin Of His Arms, And In All Of It Remedios Would Appear Transfigured: Remedios In The Soporific Air Of Two In The Afternoon, Remedios In The Soft Breath Of The Roses, Remedios In The Water-clock Secrets Of The Moths, Remedios In The Steaming Morning Bread, Remedios Everywhere And Remedios Forever.

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

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

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

The People One Loves Should Take All Their Things With Them When They Die.

He Is Ugly And Sad, But He Is All Love.

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.

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

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.

Surrealism Comes From The Reality Of Latin America.

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Lawrence M. Krauss

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