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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.
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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.
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...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.
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Caribbean reality resembles the wildest imagination.
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Shame has poor memory.
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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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A person does not belong to a place until there is someone dead under the ground.
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Very well, I will marry you if you promise not to make me eat eggplant.
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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.
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Just imagine, a cow on the balcony of the nation, what an awful thing, what a shitty country.
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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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It is a triumph of life that old people lose their memories of inessential things.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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No matter what you do this year or in the next hundred, you will be dead forever.
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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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Ah, me, if this is love, then how it torments.
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It is life, more than death, that has no limits.
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Life had already given him sufficient reasons for knowing that no defeat was the final one.
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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.
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She had never imagined that curiosty was one of the many masks of love .
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He was healthier than the rest of us, but when you listened with the stethoscope you could hear the tears bubbling inside his heart.