Carmelia Montiel, a twenty-year-old virgin, had just bathed in orange-blossom water and was strewing rosemary leaves on Pilar Ternera's bed when the shot rang out. Aureliano José had been destined to find with her the happiness that Amaranta had denied him, to have seven children, and to die in her arms of old age, but the bullet that entered his back and shattered his chest had been directed by a wrong interpretation of the cards.
Gabriel García MárquezIt was as if they had leapt over the arduous cavalry of conjugal life and gone straight to the heart of love. They were together in silence like an old married couple wary of life, beyond the pitfalls of passion, beyond the brutal mockery of hope and the phantoms of disillusion: beyond love. For they had lived together long enough to know that love was always love, anytime and anyplace, but it was more solid the closer it came to death.
Gabriel García MárquezTag: love
Perhaps this is what the stories meant when they called somebody heartsick. Your heart and your stomach and your whole insides felt empty and hollow and aching.
Gabriel García MárquezTag: bereavement heartbreak broken-hearted
She felt the abyss of disenchantment.
Gabriel García MárquezToday I know I was right. The adolescents of my generation, greedy for life, forgot in body and soul about their hopes for the future until reality taught them that tomorrow was not what they had dreamed, and they discovered nostalgia. My Sunday columns were there, life an archeological relic among the ruins of the past, and they realized they were not only for the old but also for the young who were not afraid of aging.
Gabriel García MárquezI’ve remained a virgin for you.
Gabriel García MárquezTag: virginity
He did not dare to console her, knowing that it would have been like consoling a tiger run thru by a spear.
Gabriel García MárquezHe thought that the world would make more rapid progress without the burden of old people.
Gabriel García MárquezTag: elderly
She would not shed a tear, she would not waste the rest of her years simmering in the maggot broth of memory.
Gabriel García Márquezhe dared to explore her withered neck w/his fingertips…her hips w/their decaying bones, her thighs with their aging veins.
Gabriel García Márquez« prima precedente
Pagina 7 di 91.
prossimo ultimo »
Data privacy
Imprint
Contact
Diese Website verwendet Cookies, um Ihnen die bestmögliche Funktionalität bieten zu können.