In a sudden inspiration, Florentino Ariza opened a can of red paint that was within reach of the bunk, wet his index finger, and painted the pubis of the beautiful pigeon fancier with an arrow of blood pointing south, and on her belly the words: This pussy is mine.
Our code of ethics supposes that wedoctors are made of wood .
That's maybe the reason he does so many things so that he will not have to think .
Why do you insist on talking about what does not exist?
He soon acquired the forlorn look that one sees in vegetarians.
The secret of a good old age is simply an honorable pact with solitude.
Because he had not done what she, with her heart in her mouth, had hoped he would do, which was to be a man: deny everything, and swear on his life it was not true, and grow indignant at the false accusation, and shout curses at this ill-begotten society that did not hesitate to trample on one's honor, and remain imperturbable even when forced with crushing proofs of his disloyalty.
In her final years she would still recall the trip that, with the perverse lucidity of nostalgia, became more and more recent in her memory.
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.
The heart's memory eliminate the bad and magnify the good .
Without a doubt it was Dr. Urbino's most contagious initiative, for opera fever infected the most surprising elements in the city and gave rise to a whole generation of Isoldes and Otellos and Aidas and Siegfrieds. But it never reached the extremes Dr. Urbino had hoped for, which was to see Italianizers and Wagnerians confronting each other with sticks and canes during the intermissions.
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.
The startling thing about her simplifying instinct was that the more she did away with fashion in search for comfort and the more she passed over conventions as she obeyed spontaneity, the more disturbing her incredible beauty became and the more provocative she become to men.
But that afternoon he asked himself, with his infinite capacity for illusion, if such pitiless indifference might not be a subterfuge for hiding the torments of love.
In reality they were distracted letters intendedto keep the coals alive witgout putting her hand in the fire while FA burned himself alive in every line .
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.
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.
A great commotion immobilized her in her center of gravity, planted her in her place, and her defensive will was demolished by the irresistible anxiety to discover what the orange bells and whistles and the invisible globes on the other side of death were like.
The woman let out an expansive laugh that resounded through the house like a spray of broken glass.
But when a woman decides to sleep with a man, there is no wall she will not scale, no fortress she will not destroy, no moral consideration she will not ignore at its very root: there is no God worth worrying about.
It had to teach her to think of love as a state of grace: not the means to anything but the alpha and omega, an end it itself.
She began to study with a teacher of teachers, whom they brought for that purpose from the city of Mompox, and who died unexpectedly two weeks later, and she continued for several years with the best musician at the seminary, whose gravedigger's breath distorted her arpeggios.
The only thing worse than bad health is a bad name.
After searching for it uselessly in the taste of the earth, in the perfumed letters from Pietro Crespi, in the tempestuous bed of her husband, she had found peace in that house where memories materialized through the strength of implacable evocation and walked like human beings through the cloistered rooms.
In all the houses keys to memorizing objects and feelings had been written. But the system demanded so much vigilance and moral strength that many succumbed to the spell of an imaginary reality, one invented by themselves, which was less practical for them but more comforting.
The world must be all fucked up...when men travel first class and literature goes as freight.
By virtue of marrying a man she does not love for money. That's the lowest kind of whore.
It is incredible how one can be happy for so many years in the midst of so many squabbles, so many problems, damn it, and not really know if it was love or not.
The problem in public life is learning to overcome terror; the problem in married life is learning to overcome boredom.
Although some men who were easy with their words said that it was worth sacrificing one's life for a night of love with such an arousing woman, the truth was that no one made any effort to do so. Perhaps, not only to attain her but also to conjure away her dangers, all that was needed was a feeling as primitive and as simple as that of love, but that was the only thing that did not occur to anyone.
In some way impossible to ascertain, after so many years of absense, Jose Arcadio was still an autumnal child, terribly sad and solitary.
The world was reduced to the surface of her skin and her inner self was safe from all bitterness.
Dr Urbino did not agree: in his opinion a Liberal president was exactly the same as a Conservative president, but not as well dressed.
It was a lone voice in the middle of the ocean, but it was heard at great depth and great distance.
She had the revelation one Sunday that while the other instruments played for everyone the violen played for her alone .
The weak would never entered th kingdom of love.
Amaranta would sigh, laugh, and dream of a second homeland of handsome men and beautiful women who spoke a childlike language, with ancient cities of whose past grandeur only the cats among the rubble remained.
In that Macondo forgotten even by the birds, where the dust and the heat had become so strong that it was difficult to breathe, secluded by solitude and love and by the solitude of love in a house where it was almost impossible to sleep because of the noise of the red ants, Aureliano, and Amaranta Úrsula were the only happy beings, and the most happy on the face of the earth.
Then he made one last effort to search in his heart for the place where his affection had rotted away, and he could not find it.
For at the height of pleasure he had experienced a revelation that he could not believe, that he even refused to admit, which was that his illusory love for Fermina Daza could be replaced by an earthly passion.
It was a meditation on life, love, old age, death: ideas that had often fluttered around her head like nocturnal birds but dissolved into a trickle of feathers when she tried to catch hold of them.
She knew that he loved her above all else, more than anything in the world, but only for his own sake.
The world is divided into those who screw and those who do not. He distrusted those who did not-when they strayed form the straight and narrow it was something so unusual for them that they bragged about love as if they had just invented it.
An artisan without memories, whose only dream was to die of fatigue in the oblivion and misery of his little gold fishes.
In that way the long-awaited visit, for which both had prepared questions and had even anticipated answers, was once more the usual everyday conversation.
He did not dare to console her, knowing that it would have been like consoling a tiger run thru by a spear.
More Gabriel Garcia Marquez Quotations (Based on Topics)
Love - World - Death & Dying - Solitude - Man - Memory - Sadness - Happiness - Hope - Dreams - Life - Truth - Place - Cities - Woman - Faces - Marriage - Age - Past - View All Gabriel Garcia Marquez Quotations
More Gabriel Garcia Marquez Quotations (By Book Titles)
- Love in the Time of Cholera
- One Hundred Years of Solitude
Leo Tolstoy - Charles Dickens - Tom Clancy - Thomas Wolfe - Maxim Gorky - James Clavell - Erich Segal - Anne Bronte - Alistair Maclean - Alexander Solzehnitsyn