Love becomes greater and nobler in calamity.

Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Profession: Novelist
Nationality: Colombian


Love becomes greater and nobler in calamity. Gabriel Garcia Marquez

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Opposite her, calming his peaceful hunger, was old Jacob, a man who had loved her so much and for so long that he could no longer conceive of any suffering that didn't start with his wife.

Nothing was eaten in the house that was not seasoned in the broth of longing.

Morality, too, is a question of time.

If I were a woman. I need to be loved a great deal. My great problem is to be loved more, and that's why I write.

She would not shed a tear, she would not waste the rest of her years simmering in the maggot broth of memory.

The brothers were brought up to be men. The girls had been reared to get married.

That the past is one lie, and the memory has no returning, becouse every old spring is beyond retrieve, and even the craziest and most persistent love is just a temporary truth...

It had never occurred to him until then to think that literature was the best plaything that had ever been invented to make fun of people...

And nevertheless, when they watched him leave the house, this man they themselves had urged to conquer the world, then they were the ones left with the terror that he would never return. That was their life. Love, if it existed, was something separate: another life.

With a languid hand he brushed away the cobwebs of his siesta...

Her movements were so stealthy that she seemed to be an invisible creature. Frightened by her strange nature, her mother had hung a cowbell around the girl's wrist so she would not lose track of her in the shadows of the house.

She felt an irresistible longing to begin life with him over again so that they could say what they had left unsaid and do everything right that they had done badly in the past.

How strange women are.

When you’re ugly and poor, you can only want more.