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One Hundred Years of Solitude
Book:
One Hundred Years of Solitude
Quotes of Book: One Hundred Years of Solitude
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Gabriel García Márquez
_
One Hundred Years of Solitude
من الأفضل ألا ننام , لأن الحياة ستصبح أكثر عطاء
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Gabriel García Márquez
_
One Hundred Years of Solitude
but he only found her in the image that saturated his private and terrible solitude.
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Gabriel García Márquez
_
One Hundred Years of Solitude
Sin embargo, antes de llegar al verso final ya había comprendido que no saldría jamás de ese cuarto, pues estaba previsto que la ciudad de los espejos { o los espejismos} sería arrasada por el viento y desterrada de la memoria de los hombres en el instante en que Aureliano Babilonio acabara de descifrar los pergaminos, y que todo lo escrito en ellos era irrepetible desde siempre y para siempre, porque las estirpes condenadas a cien años de soledad no tenian una segunda oportunidad sobre la tierra.
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Gabriel García Márquez
_
One Hundred Years of Solitude
Little by little, studying the infinite possibilities of a loss of memory, he realized that the day might come when things would be recognized by their inscriptions but that no one would remember their use.... At the beginning of the road into the swamp they put up a sign that said "Macondo" and another larger one on the main street that said "God exists".
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Gabriel García Márquez
_
One Hundred Years of Solitude
More than mother and son, they were accomplices in solitude.
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Gabriel García Márquez
_
One Hundred Years of Solitude
Then, for more than ten days, they did not see the sun again. The ground became soft and damp, like volcanic ash, and the vegetation was thicker and thicker, and the cries of the birds and the uproar of the monkeys became more and more remote, and the world became eternally sad. The men on the expedition felt overwhelmed by their most ancient memories in that paradise of dampness and silence, going back to before original sin, as their boots sank into pools of steaming oil and their machetes destroyed bloody lilies and golden salamanders.
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Gabriel García Márquez
_
One Hundred Years of Solitude
Bad luck doesn't have any chinks in it," he said with deep bitterness. "I was born a son of a bitch and I'm going to die a son of a bitch.
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Gabriel García Márquez
_
One Hundred Years of Solitude
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.
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Gabriel García Márquez
_
One Hundred Years of Solitude
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.
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Gabriel García Márquez
_
One Hundred Years of Solitude
He had not stopped desiring her for a single instant. He found her in the dark bedrooms of captured towns, especially in the most abject ones, and he would make her materialize in the smell of dry blood on the bandages of the wounded, in the instantaneous terror of the danger of death, at all times and in all places. He had fled from her in an attempt to wipe out her memory, not only through distance but by means of a muddled fury that his companions at arms took to be boldness, but the more her image wallowed in the dunghill of the war, the more the war resembled Amaranta. That was how he suffered in exile, looking for a way of killing her with his own death...
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Gabriel García Márquez
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One Hundred Years of Solitude
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."
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Gabriel García Márquez
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One Hundred Years of Solitude
y que en cualquier lugar en que estuvieran recordaran siempre que el pasado era mentira, que la memoria no tenía caminos de regreso, que toda primavera antigua era irrecuperable, y que el amor más desatinado y tenaz era de todos modos una verdad efímera.
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