Gabriel Garcia Marquez Quotes
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The only everyday and eternal reality was love.
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In the plenitude of their relationship, Florentina Ariza asked himself which of the two was love: the turbulent bed or the peaceful Sunday afternoons, and Sara Noriega calmed him with the simple argument that love was everything they did naked. She said, 'Spiritual love from the waist up and physical love from the waist down.
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Only God knows how much I love you.
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He pleaded so much that he lost his voice. His bones began to fill with words.
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The heart's memory eliminates the bad and magnifies the good.
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I would give wings to children, but I would leave it to them to learn how to fly by themselves.
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It's much more important to write than to be written about.
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The truth is that I know very few novelists who have been satisfied with the adaptation of their books for the screen.
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He governed as if he felt predestined to never die
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It was a lone voice in the middle of the ocean, but it was heard at great depth and great distance.
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A true friend is the one who holds your hand and touches your heart.
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This was his world, he said to himself, the sad, oppressive world that God had provided for him, and he was responsible to it.
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Old people, with other old people, are not so old.
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Ultimately, literature is nothing but carpentry. With both you are working with reality, a material just as hard as wood.
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A falcon who chases a warlike crane can only hope for a life of pain.
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The secret of a good old age is simply an honorable pact with solitude.
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It's enough for me to be sure that you and I exist at this moment.
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Horses frighten me as much as chickens do,’ he said. ‘That is too bad, because lack of communication with horses has impeded human progress,’ said Abrenuncio. ‘If we ever broke down the barriers, we could produce the centaur.
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As a writer I'm merely a journalist who has learned to write better than others.
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The children would remember for the rest of their lives the august solemnity with which their father, devastated by his prolonged vigil and by the wraith of his imagination, revealed his discovery to them: 'The world is round, like an orange.
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"Things have a life of their own," the gypsy proclaimed with a harsh accent. "It's simply a matter of waking up their souls."
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This was when I heard that the first symptom of old age is when you begin to resemble your father.
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I ask myself how I could give in to this perpetual vertigo that I in fact provoked and feared. I floated among erratic clouds and talked to myself in front of the mirror in the vain hope of confirming who I was. My delirium was so great that during a student demonstration complete with rocks and bottles, I had to make an enormous effort not to lead it as I held up a sign that would sanctify my truth: I am mad with love.
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Both described at the same time how it was always March there and always Monday, and then they understood that José Arcadio Buendía was not as crazy as the family said, but that he was the only one who had enough lucidity to sense the truth of the fact that time also stumbled and had accidents and could therefore splinter and leave an eternalized fragment in a room.
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Love is not a condition of the spirit but a sign of the zodiac.
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Music is important for one's health.
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I have learned that a man has the right and obligation to look down at another man, only when that man needs help to get up from the ground.
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When he went through the kitchen he kissed Rebeca on the forehead. "Get those bad thoughts out of your head," he told her. "You're going to be happy.
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Life is but a continual succession of opportunities for surviving.
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Tell him yes. Even if you are dying of fear, even if you are sorry later, because whatever you do, you will be sorry all the rest of your life if you say no.
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