Gabriel Garcia Marquez Quotes
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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.
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Each man is master of his own death, and all that we can do when the time comes is to help him die without fear of pain.
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he dared to explore her withered neck w/his fingertips…her hips w/their decaying bones, her thighs with their aging veins.
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I'll never fall in love again... it's like having two souls at the same time.
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...and the cries of the birds and the uproar of the monkeys became more and more remote, and the world became eternally sad. The men on the expedition felt overwhelmed by their most ancient memories in that paradise of dampness and silence, going back to before original sin, as their boots sank into pools of steaming oil and their machetes destroyed bloody lilies and golden salamanders.
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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.
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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.
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...races condemned to 100 years of solitude did not have a second opportunity on earth.
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Never stop smiling not even when you're sad, someone might fall in love with your smile.
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...opened the door a crack wide enough for the entire world to pass through .
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His place was always set at the table, in case he returned from the dead without warning .
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When you have a healthy appetite there is no such thing as bad bread.
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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.
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Freedom is often the first casualty of war.
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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.
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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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Surrealism runs through the streets.
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...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.
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Taught him the only thing he had to learn about love: that nobody teaches life anything.
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All my life, I've been frightened at the moment I sit down to write.
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One could be happy not only without love, but despite it.
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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.
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In the beginning, when the world was new and nothing had a name, my father took me to see the ice.
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She had the revelation one Sunday that while the other instruments played for everyone the violen played for her alone .