No matter what you do this year or in the next hundred, you will be dead forever. — Gabriel García Márquez, Memories of My Melancholy Whores. (Vintage; Reprint edition, November 14, 2006) Advertisements
“Don’t worry,” he would say, smiling. “Dying is much more difficult than one imagines.” — Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude. (Harper & Row, 1970)
Upset by two nostalgias facing each other like two mirrors, he lost his marvelous sense of unreality and he ended up recommending to all of them that they leave Macondo, that they forget everything he had taught them about the world and the human heart, that they shit on Horace, and that wherever they might… Continue reading Gabriel García Márquez
The only regret I will have in dying is if it is not for love. ― Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera. (Alfred A. Knopf, 1988)
Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice. ― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude. (Harper; 1st edition June 24, 2003) Originally published June 1st 1967.
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. — Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera.… Continue reading Gabriel García Márquez