Background Image

...

Crazy People Are Not Crazy If One Accepts Their Reasoning.

-Gabriel Garcia Marquez

...

Please Wait....
Translating....

Crazy People Are Not

Gabriel Garcia Marquez

...

Crazy People Are Not Crazy If One Accepts Their Reasoning.

Views: 7

Topic

One Hundred Years Of Solitude

More From Gabriel Garcia Marquez

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

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

One Hundred Years Of Solitude

Life Had Already Given Him Sufficient Reasons For Knowing That No Defeat Was The Final One.

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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

Do Not Allow Me To Forget You

Crazy People Are Not Crazy If One Accepts Their Reasoning.

One Hundred Years Of Solitude

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.

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.

Take Advantage Of It Now, While You Are Young, And Suffer All You Can, Because These Things Don't Last Your Whole Life.

The Only Everyday And Eternal Reality Was Love.

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

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.

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.

The Weak Would Never Enter The Kingdom Of Love.

In Journalism Just One Fact That Is False Prejudices The Entire Work. In Contrast, In Fiction One Single Fact That Is True Gives Legitimacy To The Entire Work. That's The Only Difference, And It Lies In The Commitment Of The Writer. A Novelist Can Do Anything He Wants So Long As He Makes People Believe In It.

Nothing In This World Was More Difficult Than Love.

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.

Tell Him Yes. Even If You Are Dying Of Fear, Even If You Are Sorry Later, Because Whatever You Do, You Will Be Sorry All The Rest Of Your Life If You Say No.

Rest Of Your Life

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.

Fiction Was Invented The Day Jonas Arrived Home And Told His Wife That He Was Three Days Late Because He Had Been Swallowed By A Whale.

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

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

For You Was I Born, For You Do I Have Life, For You Will I Die, For You Am I Now Dying.

Just As Real Events Are Forgotten, Some That Never Were Can Be In Our Memories As If They Happened.

Music Is Important For One's Health.

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

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

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

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

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

One Hundred Years Of Solitude

It Was A Love Of Perpetual Flight.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

How Will I Ever Get Out Of This Labyrinth!

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

How Strange Women Are.

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.

Very Well, I Will Marry You If You Promise Not To Make Me Eat Eggplant.

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 Likes To Try Everything, Out Of Curiosity, But She'll Be Sorry If She Isn't Guided By Her Heart.

Many Years Later, In Front Of The Firing Squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía Would Remember That Distant Afternoon His Father Took Him To See Ice.

...they Enjoyed The Miracle Of Loving Each Other As Much At The Table As In Bed, And They Grew To Be So Happy That Even When They Were Two Worn-out Old People They Kept On Blooming Like Children And Playing Together Like Dogs.

She Felt The Abyss Of Disenchantment.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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

I'll Never Fall In Love Again... It's Like Having Two Souls At The Same Time.

Falling In Love

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

He Could Not Understand Why He Had Needed So Many Words To Explain What He Felt In War Because One Was Enough: Fear. ~jose Aracadio Segundo Buendia After The Second Banana Slaughter

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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

The Secret Of A Good Old Age Is Simply An Honorable Pact With Solitude.

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.

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

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.

Be Calm. God Awaits You At The Door.

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

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

Forgive And Forget

One Hundred Years Of Solitude

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.

The Children Would Remember For The Rest Of Their Lives The August Solemnity With Which Their Father, Devastated By His Prolonged Vigil And By The Wraith Of His Imagination, Revealed His Discovery To Them: 'the World Is Round, Like An Orange.

For A Week, Almost Without Speaking, They Went Ahead Like Sleepwalkers Through A Universe Of Grief, Lighted Only By The Tenuous Reflection Of Luminous Insects, And Their Lungs Were Overwhelmed By A Suffocating Smell Of Blood.

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

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

A Man Knows When He Is Growing Old Because He Begins To Look Like His Father.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

Fatality Makes Us Invisible.

Freedom Is Often The First Casualty Of War.

The Woman Let Out An Expansive Laugh That Resounded Through The House Like A Spray Of Broken Glass.

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

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.

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

Unrequited Love

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.

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.

Cease, Cows, Life Is Short.

A Man Only Has The Right To Look Down At Another When He Helps Him To Lift Himself Up.

There Is Always Something Left To Love.

Everything That Belonged To Her Husband Made Her Weep Again: His Tasseled Slippers, His Pajamas Under The Pillow, The Space Of His Absence In The Dressing Table Mirror, His Own Odor On Her Skin. A Vague Thought Made Her Shudder: "the People One Loves Should Take All Their Things With Them When They Die.

Sex Is One's Consolation When Love Is Not Enough

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.

Opened The Door A Crack Wide Enough For The Entire World To Pass Through .

...the Girl Raised Her Eyes To See Who Was Passing By The Window, And That Casual Glance Was The Beginning Of A Cataclysm Of Love That Still Had Not Ended Half A Century Later.

There Had Never Been A Death So Foretold.

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

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

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

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.

I’ve Remained A Virgin For You.

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

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.

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

One Hundred Years Of Solitude

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

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.

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.

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

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.

I Plead Youth As A Mitigating Circumstance.

Why Do You Insist On Talking About What Does Not Exist?

Nothing Resembles A Person As Much As The Way He Dies.

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

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.

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

In The End All Books Are Written For Your Friends.

One Hundred Years Of Solitude

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.

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

One Hundred Years Of Solitude

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

There's No Greater Misfortune Than Dying Alone.

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.

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.

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

Knowledge And Power

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

Surrealism Comes From The Reality Of Latin America.

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

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.

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.

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

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

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.

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.

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

Together They Had Overcome The Daily Incomprehension, The Instantaneous Hatred, The Reciprocal Nastiness, And Fabulous Flashes Of Glory In The Conjugal Conspiracy. It Was Time When They Both Loved Each Other Best, Without Hurry Or Excess, When Both Were Most Conscious Of And Grateful For Their Incredible Victories Over Adversity. Life Would Still Present Them With Other Moral Trials, Of Course, But That No Longer Mattered: They Were On The Other Shore.

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.

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

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

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 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.

Morality, Too, Is A Question Of Time.

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

Only God Knows How Much I Love You.

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

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

Falling In Love

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

Nothing One Does In Bed Is Immoral If It Helps To Perpetuate Love.

Hate And Love Are Reciprocal Passions.

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

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

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

Over The Years They Both Reached The Same Wise Conclusion By Different Paths: It Was Not Possible To Live Together In Any Other Way, Or Love In Any Other Way, And Nothing In This World Was More Difficult Than Love.

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

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.

Everyone Has Three Lives: A Public Life, A Private Life, And A Secret Life.

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.

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.

Everything That Goes Into My Mouth Seems To Make Me Fat, Everything That Comes Out Of My Mouth Embarrasses Me.

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.

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

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

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

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

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.

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.

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

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

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

He Who Awaits Much Can Expect Little.

Procrastination

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.

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

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

I Became Aware That The Invincible Power That Has Moved The World Is Unrequited, Not Happy, Love.

Inspiration Gives No Warnings.

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

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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".

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

One Hundred Years Of Solitude

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

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.

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.

Children's Lies Are Signs Of Great Talent.

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

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.

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.

Trending Author

Benjamin Britten

William Barclay

Category