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.
Gabriel García MárquezTag: memories
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Thinking that it would console him, she took a piece of charcoal and erased the innumerable loves that he still owed her for, and she voluntarily brought up her own most solitary sadnesses so as not to leave him alone in his weeping.
Gabriel García MárquezAll that was needed was a shrewd questioning, first of the patient and then of his mother, to conclude once again that the symptoms of love were the same as those of cholera
Gabriel García MárquezTag: love
Life...was nothing more than a system of atavistic contracts, banal ceremonies, preordained words, with which people entertained each other...The dominant sign in that paradise of provincial frivolity was the fear of the unknown
Gabriel García MárquezTag: life
لا ينتسب الانسان الى ارض لا موتى له تحت ترابها
Gabriel García Márquezإن الإنسان لايموت حين يريد ، بل يموت عندما يستطيع
Gabriel García MárquezÚrsula se perguntava se não era preferível se deitar logo de uma vez na sepultura e lhe jogarem a terra por cima, e perguntava a Deus, sem medo, se realmente acreditava que as pessoas eram feitas de ferro para suportar tantas penas e mortificações. E perguntando e perguntando ia atiçando sua própria perturbação e sentia desejos irreprimíveis de se soltar e não ter papas na língua como um forasteiro e de se permitir afinal um instante de rebeldia, o instante tantas vezes desejado e tantas vezes adiado, para cortar a resignação pela raiz e cagar de uma vez para tudo e tirar do coração os infinitos montes de palavrões que tivera que engolir durante um século inteiro de conformismo.
– Porra! – gritou.
Amaranta, que começava a colocar a roupa no baú, pensou que ela tinha sido picada por um escorpião.
– Onde está? – perguntou alarmada.
– O quê?
– O animal! – esclareceu Amaranta.
Úrsula pôs o dedo no coração.
– Aqui – disse
Tag: cem-anos-de-solidão
The hunt for love is haughty falconry.
Gabriel García MárquezY se fueron a morir de hambre y de amor al dormitorio.
Gabriel García MárquezEveryone will have gone then except us, because we're tied to this soil by a roomful of trunks where the household goods and clothing of grandparents are kept, and the canopies that my parenrs' horses used when they came to Macondo, fleeing from the war. We've been sown into this soil by the memory of the remote dead whose bones can no longer be found twenty fathoms under the earth. The trunks have been in the room ever since the last days of the war; and they'll be there this afternoon when we come back from the burial, if that final wind hasn't passed, the one that will sweep away Macondo, its bedrooms full of lizards and its silent people devastated by memories.
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