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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.

-Gabriel Garcia Marquez

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Everything That Belonged To

Gabriel Garcia Marquez

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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.

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[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.

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

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.

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

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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.

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.

It Was A Love Of Perpetual Flight.

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.

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

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Once Again She Shuddered With The Evidence That Time Was Not Passing, As She Had Just Admitted, But That It Was Turning In A Circle.

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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.

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One Hundred Years Of Solitude

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.

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

One Hundred Years Of Solitude

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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.

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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.

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.

To Him She Seemed So Beautiful, So Seductive, So Different From Ordinary People, That He Could Not Understand Why No One Was As Disturbed As He By The Clicking Of Her Heels On The Paving Stones, Why No One Else's Heart Was Wild With The Breeze Stirred By The Sighs Of Her Veils, Why Everyone Did Not Go Mad With The Movements Of Her Braid, The Flight Of Her Hands, The Gold Of Her Laughter. He Had Not Missed A Single One Of Her Gestures, Not One Of The Indications Of Her Character, But He Did Not Dare Approach Her For Fear Of Destroying The Spell.

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.

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.

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

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.

She Was Lost In Her Longing To Understand.

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.

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

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

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.

How Will I Ever Get Out Of This Labyrinth!

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.

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.

There Was A House At The Foot Of The Tower, Close To The Thunder Of The Waves Breaking Against The Cliffs, Where Love Was More Intense Because It Seemed Like A Shipwreck.

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

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.

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

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

Both Looked Back Then On The Wild Revelry...and They Lamented That It Had Cost Them So Much Of Their Lives To Find The Paradise Of Shared Solitude.

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

Falling In Love

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

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.'

I Plead Youth As A Mitigating Circumstance.

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

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.

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.

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

And Realized That Death Was Not Only A Permanent Probability, As He Had Always Believed, But An Immediate Reality.

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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 Always Considered Death An Unavoidable Professional Hazard.

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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.

More Than Mother And Son, They Were Accomplices In Solitude.

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

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

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.

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

Always Tell What You Feel. Do What You Think.

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

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.

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

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

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.

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.

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Otto Von Bismarck

Ellsworth Huntington

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