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… Continue reading Gabriel García Márquez
He dug so deeply into her sentiments that in search of interest he found love… — Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude. (Harper; 1st edition June 24, 2003) published June 1st 1967.
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. ― Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera. (Vintage October 7, 2003) Originally published 1985.
It’s enough for me to be sure that you and I exist at this moment. — Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude. (Harper; 1st edition June 24, 2003) published June 1st 1967.
Things have a life of their own … It’s simply a matter of waking up their souls. — Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude. (Harper; 1st edition June 24, 2003) published June 1st 1967.
She tried to say something, but there was only enough air for her to breathe. He laid her down beside him to help her, he put out the light and the room was in the shadow of the rose. – Gabriel García Márquez, from “Death Constant Beyond Love,” Collected Stories (Perennial Classics, 1999)
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… Continue reading Gabriel García Márquez
He felt himself forgotten, not with the irremediable forgetfulness of the heart, but with a different kind of forgetfulness, which was more cruel and irrevocable and which he knew very well because it was the forgetfulness of death. ― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude. (Harper; 1st edition June 24, 2003)
‘Bad luck doesn’t have any chinks in it,’ he said with deep bitterness. ‘I was born a son of a bitch and I’m going to die a son of a bitch.’ ― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude. (Harper; 1st edition June 24, 2003)
Both of them remained floating in an empty universe where the only everyday and eternal reality was love. — Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude (harper & Row, 1970)
The Vale of Soul-Making 