Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ

“Wherever they might be they always remember that the past was a lie, that memory has no return, that every spring gone by could never be recovered, and that the wildest and most tenacious love was an ephemeral truth in the end.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

“Then he knew that they had rounded the cape of good hope, and he took her large, soft hand again and covered it with forlorn little kisses, first the hard metacarpus, the long, discerning fingers, the diaphanous nails, and then the hieroglyphics of her destiny on her perspiring palm.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera

“Es difícil imaginar hasta qué punto se vivía entonces a la sombra de la ±è´Ç±ð²õí²¹. Era una pasión frenética, otro modo de ser, una bola de candela que andaba de su cuenta por todas partes. Abríamos el periódico, aun en la sección económica o en la página judicial, o leíamos el asiento del café en el fondo de la taza, y allí estaba esperándonos la ±è´Ç±ð²õí²¹ para hacerse cargo de nuetros sueños.”
― Gabriel García Márquez

“Era la estatua ecuestre de Simón Bolívar. Nadie menos: el general Simón José Antonio de la Santísima Trinidad Bolívar y Palacios, mi héroe desde que me lo ordenó mi abuelo, con su radiante uniforme de gala y su cabeza de emperador romano, cagado por las golondrinas.”
― Gabriel García Márquez

“When he walked out of the hospital, he did not even realize that snow with no trace of blood was falling from the sky, in tender, bright flakes that looked like the downy feathers of doves, or that there was a festive air on the streets of Paris, because it was the first big snowfall in ten years.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Strange Pilgrims: Twelve Stories

“On the same night when he endured his desire to cry with rage, Nena Daconte’s parents called off the search and took away the embalmed body in the metal coffin, and those who saw it repeated over and over again for many years that they never had seen a more beautiful woman, dead or alive.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Strange Pilgrims: Twelve Stories

“He got out of bed on Friday wounded by the evil night he had spent, but determined to give definition to his life.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Strange Pilgrims: Twelve Stories

“She did not have time to think again. In the suburbs of Paris her finger bled in an uncontrollable flood, and she felt as if her soul were escaping through the scratch.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Strange Pilgrims: Twelve Stories

“Only they knew then, twenty-four hours after the wedding, that Nena Daconte had been pregnant for two months. And so when they reached Madrid they were far from being two sated lovers, but they had enough discretion to behave like pure newlyweds.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Strange Pilgrims: Twelve Stories

“Nena Daconte gave herself over to furtive love with the same frenetic devotion that she had once wasted on the saxophone, until her tamed bandit at last understood what she had meant when she said he would have to perform like a black man. Billy Sánchez always returned her love, with skill and the same enthusiasm.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Strange Pilgrims: Twelve Stories

“When her parents returned home, Nena Daconte and Billy Sánchez had progressed so far in love that the world was not big enough for anything else, and they made love anytime, anyplace, trying to reinvent it each time they did. At first they struggled in the sports cars with which Billy Sánchez’s papa tried to quiet his own feelings of guilt.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Strange Pilgrims: Twelve Stories

“Every day at the same time, for almost two weeks, they caroused, passionate and naked, beneath the astonished gaze of the portraits of civil warriors and insatiable grandmothers who had preceded them in the paradise of that historic bed.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Strange Pilgrims: Twelve Stories

“Nena Daconte’s mother had tried in vain to have her play it another way and not, for the sake of comfort, with her skirt up around her thighs and her knees apart, and with a sensuality that did not seem essential to the music. “I don’t care what instrument you play,â€� she would say, “as long as you play it with your legs together.â€� But those ship’s farewell songs and that feasting on love were what allowed Nena Daconte to break the bitter shell around Billy Sánchez.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Strange Pilgrims: Twelve Stories

“All that Billy Sánchez could think to do was to smash the fist rolled in chain against the wall and break his hand. She drove him to the hospital in her car and helped him endure his convalescence, and in the end they learned together how to make love the correct way.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Strange Pilgrims: Twelve Stories

“He had an insatiable passion for rare automobiles and a papa with too many feelings of guilt and more than enough resources to satisfy his whims, and he had never driven anything like the Bentley convertible that had been given to him as a wedding gift. His rapture at the wheel was so intense that the more he drove the less tired he felt. He wanted to reach Bordeaux that night. They had reserved the bridal suite at the Hotel Splendid, and not all the contrary winds or snow in the sky could hold him back.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Strange Pilgrims: Twelve Stories