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“Ah, me, if this is love, then how it torments.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Memories of My Melancholy Whores

“As infants, our first victory comes in grasping some bit of the world, usually our mother's fingers. Later we discover that the world, and the things of the world, are grasping us, and have been all along.”
― Stephen King, Just After Sunset

“How strange men are.' she said, because she could not think of anything else to say. 'They spend their lives fighting against priests and then give prayer books as gifts.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

“They lost their sense of reality, the notion of time, the rhythm of daily habits. They closed the doors and windows again so as not to waste time getting undressed and they walked about the house as Remedios the Beauty had wanted to do and they would roll around naked in the mud of the courtyard, and one afternoon they almost drowned as they made love in the cistern. In a short time they did more damage than the red ants: they destroyed the furniture in the parlor, in their madness they tore to shreds the hammock that had resisted the sad bivouac loves of Colonel Aureliano Buendía and they disemboweled the mattresses and emptied them on the floor as they suffocated in storms of cotton. Although Aureliano was just as ferocious a lover as his rival, it was Amaranta ?rsula who ruled in that paradise of disaster with her mad genius and her lyrical voracity, as if she had concentrated in her love the unconquerable energy that her great-great-grandmother had given to the making of little candy animals. And yet, while she was singing with pleasure and dying with laughter over her own inventions, Aureliano was becoming more and more absorbed and silent, for his passion was self-centered and burning. Nevertheless, they both reached such extremes of virtuosity that when they became exhausted from excitement, they would take advantage of their fatigue. They would give themselves over to the worship of their bodies, discovering that the rest periods of love had unexplored possibilities, much richer than those of desire. While he would rub Amaranta ?rsula’s erect breasts with egg whites or smooth her elastic thighs and peach-like stomach with cocoa butter, she would play with Aureliano’s portentous creature as if it were a doll and would paint clown’s eyes on it with her lipstick and give it a Turk’s mustache with her eyebrow pencil, and would put on organza bow ties and little tinfoil hats. One night they daubed themselves from head to toe with peach jam and licked each other like dogs and made mad love on the floor of the porch, and they were awakened by a torrent of carnivorous ants who were ready to eat them alive.”
― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

“It is life, more than death, that has no limits.

Love becomes greater and nobler and mightier in calamity.

We men are the miserable slaves of prejudice. But when a women decides to sleep with a man, there is no wall she will not scale, no fortress she will not destroy, no moral consideration she will not ignore at its very root. There is no god worth worrying about.

Let time pass and we will see what it brings.

Humanity, like the armies in the field, advances at the speed of the slowest.

Those of us who make the rules have the greatest obligation to abide by them.

I don't believe in God but I am afraid of him.
It's better to arrive in time than to be invited.

Unfaithful but not disloyal.

Love, no matter what else it might be, is a natural talent.

Nobody teaches life anything.

The only regret I will have in dying is if it is not for love.

There is no one with more common sense, no stonecutter more obstinate, no manager more lucid and dangerous, than a poet.

Human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them but that life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves.

One comes into the world with a predetermined allotment of lays and whoever doesn't use them for whatever reason, one's own and someone else's, willingly or unwillingly, looses them forever.”
― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez

“The ancient priest who had taken Father Angel’s place and whose name no one had bothered to find out awaited God’s mercy stretched out casually in a hammock, tortured by arthritis and the insomnia of doubt while the lizards and rats fought over the inheritance of the nearby church.”
― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

“...se aprende demasiado tarde que hasta las vidas más dilatadas y útiles no alcanzan para nada más que para aprender a vivir...”
― Gabriel García Márquez, The Autumn of the Patriarch

“...esta patria que no escogí por mi voluntad sino que me la dieron hecha como usted la ha visto que es como ha sido desde siempre con este sentimiento de irrealidad, con este olor a mierda, con esta gente sin historia que no cree en nada más que en la vida, ésta es la patria que me impusieron sin preguntarme...”
― Gabriel García Márquez, The Autumn of the Patriarch

“...que carajo, si al fin y al cabo cuando yo me muera volverán los políticos a repartirse esta vaina como en los tiempos de los godos, ya lo verán, decía, se volverán a repartir todo entre los curas, los gringos y los ricos, y nada para los pobres, por supuesto, porque ésos estarán siempre tan jodidos que el día en que la mierda tenga algún valor los pobres nacerán sin culo...”
― Gabriel García Márquez, The Autumn of the Patriarch

“-Kujtomë me një trëndafil, - i tha.”
― Gabriel García Márquez

“-Vetëm një zot e di se sa të kam dashur.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera

“Mjaftuan ca pyetje rrotull e rrotull në fillim të sëmurit, pastaj të ëmës, për të vërtetuar edhe një herë se simptomat e dashurisë qenkan të njëjta me ato të kolerës.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera

“Pa i ardhur aspak keq për F, që në ato çaste, përçartej në ethe duke dhënë shpirt nga dashuria për të, mes erës dhe shiut, mbi një anije, e cila s'kish për ta çuar drejt harresës.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera

“Ajo kishte kaluar aq pranë,sa ai arriti të ndiente flladin e aromës së saj dhe nëse ajo se vuri re, kjo ndodh jo sepse nuk kishte mundësi ta shihte, por ngaqë e kishte zakon të ecte me kokën lartë. I dukej aq e bukur, aq ngadhënjyese, aq ndryshe nga njerëzit e zakonshëm, saqë nuk e kuptonte se si askush tjetër nuk prekej si ai nga kënga prej kastanjetash që lëshonin takat e saj mbi kalldrëm, se si askujt tjetër nuk i çakërdisej zemra nga fërshfërimat e varefit të fustanit të saj, dhe si askush tjetër nuk çmendej si ai nga dashuria për fru-frunë e gërshetit të saj, për fluturimin e duarve dhe floririn e të qeshurës së saj!”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera

“Since I had described the European cities where the stories take place from memory, and at a distance, I wanted to verify the accuracy of my recollections after twenty years, and I made a fast trip to reacquaint myself with Barcelona, Geneva, Rome, and Paris.

Not one of them had any connection to my memories. Through an astonishing inversion, all of them, like all of present-day Europe, had become strange: True memories seemed like phantoms, while false memories were so convincing that they replaced reality. This meant I could not detect the dividing line between disillusionment and nostalgia.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Strange Pilgrims

“the writing became so fluid that I sometimes felt as if I were writing for the sheer pleasure of telling a story, which may be the human condition that most resembles levitation.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Strange Pilgrims

“I have always thought that each version of a story is better than the one before. How does one know, then, which is the final version? In the same way the cook knows when the soup is ready, this is a trade secret that does not obey the laws of reason but the magic of instinct.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Strange Pilgrims

“HE SAT ON a wooden bench under the yellow leaves in the deserted park, contemplating the dusty swans with both his hands resting on the silver handle of his cane, and thinking about death.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Bon Voyage, Mr President

“On his first visit to Geneva the lake had been calm and clear, and there were tame gulls that would eat out of one’s hand, and women for hire who seemed like six-in-the-afternoon phantoms with organdy ruffles and Now the only possible woman he could see was a flower vendor on the deserted pier. It was difficult for him to believe that time could cause so much ruin not only in his life but in the world.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Bon Voyage, Mr President

“He was one more incognito in the city of illustrious incognitos. He wore the dark blue pin-striped suit, brocade vest, and stiff hat of a retired magistrate. He had the arrogant mustache of a musketeer, abundant blue-black hair with romantic waves, a harpist’s hands with the widower’s wedding band on his left ring finger, and joyful eyes. Only the weariness of his skin betrayed the state of his health.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Bon Voyage, Mr President

“His clinical style was so dramatic that the final verdict seemed merciful: The President had to submit to a dangerous and inescapable operation. He asked about the margin of risk, and the old physician enveloped him in an indeterminate light. “We could not say with certainty,â€� he answered.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Bon Voyage, Mr President

“Inside the lights burned in the middle of the day, and the string quartet was playing a piece by Mozart full of foreboding. At the counter the President picked up a newspaper from the pile reserved for customers, hung his hat and cane on the rack, put on his gold-rimmed glasses to read at the most isolated table, and only then became aware that autumn had arrived.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Bon Voyage, Mr President

“Following his doctorsâ€� orders, he had given up the habit of coffee more than thirty years before, but had said, “If I ever knew for certain that I was going to die, I would drink it again.â€� Perhaps the time had come.

“Bring me a coffee too,â€� he ordered in perfect French. And specified without noticing the double meaning, “Italian style, strong enough to wake the dead.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Bon Voyage, Mr President

“He finished the paper at his leisure, floating on the sumptuous cellos of Brahms, until the pain was stronger than the analgesic of the music. Then he looked at the small gold watch and chain that he carried in his vest pocket and took his two midday tranquilizers with the last swallow of Évian water. Before removing his glasses he deciphered his destiny in the coffee grounds and felt an icy shudder: He saw uncertainty there.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Bon Voyage, Mr President

“In the end, what determined her behavior was the weight of her conjugal loyalty.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Bon Voyage, Mr President

“For the first time she became interested in the guest, whose wit could not hide his sadness. Lázara’s curiosity increased when he finished his coffee and turned the cup upside down in the saucer so the grounds could settle.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Bon Voyage, Mr President

“The President told them he had chosen the island of Martinique for his exile because of his friendship with the poet Aimé Césaire, who at that time had just published his Cahier d’un retour au pays natal, and had helped him begin a new life. With what remained of his wife’s inheritance, the President bought a house made of noble wood in the hills of Fort-de-France, with screens at the windows and a terrace overlooking the sea and filled with primitive flowers, where it was a pleasure to sleep with the sound of crickets and the molasses-and-rum breeze from the sugar mills. There he stayed with his wife, fourteen years older than he and an invalid since the birth of their only child, fortified against fate by his habitual rereading of the Latin classics, in Latin, and by the conviction that this was the final act of his life. For years he had to resist the temptation of all kinds of adventures proposed to him by his defeated partisans.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Bon Voyage, Mr President

“All of us usurping an honor we did not deserve with an office we did not know how to fill. Some pursue only power, but most are looking for even less: a job.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Bon Voyage, Mr President

“He faced Lázara’s African eyes, which scrutinized him without pity, and tried to win her over with the eloquence of an old master.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Bon Voyage, Mr President

“But she thought he had squandered these gifts of God in the service of pretense.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Bon Voyage, Mr President