ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF SOLITUDE – GABRIEL GARCIA MARQUEZ

1. The children would remember for the rest of their lives the august solemnity with which their father, devasted by his prolonged virgil and by the wrath of his imagination, revealed his discovery to them. (p.5)

2. (…) lighting up with his deep organ voice the darkest reaches of the imagination, (…) (p.6)

3. (…) and they were awake and frolicking in bed until dawn, indifferent to the breeze that passed through the bedroom, loaded with the weeping of Prudencio Aguilar’s kin. (p.22)

4. ‘Children inherit their parents’ madness.’ (p.41)

5. (…) the air in the room had begun to turn to mud. (p.53)

6. Although she seemed expansive and cordial, she had a solitary character and an impenetrable heart. (p.65)

7. (…) but he found her only in the image that saturated his private and terrible solitude. (p.67)

8. (…) while Ursula was trying to rescue Rebeca from the slough of delirium. (p.68)

9. The establishment had been expanded with a gallery of wooden rooms where single women who smelled of dead flowers lived. (p.68)

10. With a calm skill, without the slightest misstep, he left his accumulated grief behind and found Remedios changed into a swamp without horizons, smelling of a raw animal and recently ironed clothes. When he came to the surface he was weeping. First they were involuntary and broken sobs. Then he emptied himself out in an unleashed flow, feeling that something swollen and painful had burst inside of him. She waited, scratching his head with the tips of her fingers, until his body got rid of the dark material that would not let him live. (p.70)

11. A few months after his return, a process of aging had taken place in him that was so rapid and critical that soon he was treated as one of those useless great-grandfathers who wander about the bedrooms like shades, dragging their feet, remembering better times aloud, and whom no one bothers about or remembers really until the morning they find them dead in their bed. (p.73)

12. He thought about his people without sentimentality, with a strict closing of his accounts with life, beginning to understand how much he really loved the people he hated most. (p.122)

13. On the way to the cemetery, under the persistent drizzle, Arcadio saw that a radiant Wednesday was breaking out on the horizon. (p.123)

14. (…) and brought on a heat wave that was so intense that birds broke through window screens to come to die in the bedrooms. (p.137)

15. For many hours, balancing on the edge of the surprises of a war with no future, in rhymed verse he resolved his experience on the shores of death. (p.139)

16. (…) the tedious Sundays of death. (p.143)

17. She never refused the favor, just as she never refused the countless men who sought her out, even in the twilight of her maturity, without giving her money or love and only occasionally pleasure. (p.157)

18. Encased in black down to her knuckles, with her heart turned to ash, she scarcely knew anything about the war. (p.161)

19. At dusk through her tears she saw the swift and luminous disks that crossed the sky like an exhalation and she thought that it was a signal of death. (p.182)

20. The war, relegated to the attic of bad memories, was momentarily recalled with the popping of champagne bottles. (p.194)

21. (…) during a night of feverish license. (p.196)

22. (…) and his position had twisted his spine and the close work had used up his eyesight, but the implacable concentration awarded him with a peace of the spirit. (p.204)

23. (…) Colonel Aureliano Buendia could understand only that the secret of a good old age is simply an honorable pact with solitude. (p.205)

24. Colonel Aureliano Buendia who at first received them with mistrust and even doubted the parentage of some, was amused by their wildness, and before they left he gave each one a little gold fish. (p.222)

25. (…) and she asked God, without fear, if he really believed that people were made of iron in order to bear so many troubles and mortifications; (p.256)

26. Fabulous eaters arrived from everywhere to take part in the irrational tourneys of capacity and resistance that were organised in the house of Petra Cotes. (p.261)

27. After lunch he felt the drowsiness of inactivity. (p.271)

28. (…) and while he urinated he tried to keep on thinking about the circus, but he could no longer find the memory. (p.273)

29. One night, during the course of a week darkened by somber rumors, (…) (p.303)

30. (…) one might have thought that they were only a few squads marching in a circle, because they were all identical, sons of the same bitch, (…) (p.308)

31. The sky crumbled into a set of destructive storms (…) (p.320)

32. One morning Ursula woke up feeling that she was reaching her end in a placid swoon (…) (p.321)

33. (…) to take pleasure in the feeling of deep intimacy that the sprinkling of the rain produced at that time. (p.322)

34. (…) was a bog of rotting roots, on the horizon of which one could manage to see the silent foam of the sea. (p.336)

35. The spirit of her invincible heart guided her through the shadows. (p.340)

36. (…) and that the walls and the cement of the floors were cracked, the furniture mushy and discolored, the doors off their hinges, and the family menaced by a spirit of resignation and despair (…) (p.340)

37. The last time that Aureliano sensed him he was only an invisible presence who murmured: ‘I died of fever on the sands of Singapore.’ (p.363)

38. (…) and he listened until late at night to the harsh, impassioned scratching of her pen on the paper before hearing the sound of the light switch and the murmur of her prayers in the darkness. (p.369)

39. (…) and her soul brightened with the nostalgia of her lost dreams. (p.370)

40. The need to feel sad was becoming a vice as the years eroded her. She became human in her solitude. (p.370)

41. On a long table, also heaped with old books and papers, the proprietor was writing tireless prose in purple letters, somewhat outlandish, and on the loose pages of a school notebook. He had a handsome head of silver hair which fell down over his forehead like the plume of a cockatoo, and his blue eyes, lively and close-set, revealed the gentleness of a man who had read all of the books. He was wearing short pants and soaking in perspiration, and he did not stop his writing to see who had come in. (p.372)

42. Aureliano had no difficulty in rescuing the five books that he was looking for from that fabulous disorder, (…) (p.373)

43. Gaston was not only a fierce lover, with endless wisdom and imagination, but he was also, perhaps, the first man in the history of the species who had made an emergency landing and had come close to killing himself and his sweetheart simply to make love in a field of violets. (p.386)

44. (…) to teach him first how to do it like earthworms, then like snails, and finally like crabs, until she had to leave him and lie in wait for vagabond loves. (p.392)

45. (…) who had set about to conquer his wife with the weariness of eternal agreement, of never saying no, of simulating a limitless conformity, letting her become enmeshed in her own web until the day she could no longer bear the tedium of the illusions close at hand and would pack the bags herself to go back to Europe. (p.399)

46. (…) she had given up the pernicious custom of keeping track of her age and she went on living in the static and marginal time of memories, in a future perfectly revealed and established, beyond the futures disturbed by the insidious snares and suppositions of her cards. (p.401)

47. ‘Go away,’ she said voicelessly. (p.402)

48. A great commotion immobilized her in her center of gravity, planted her in her place, and her defensive will was demolished by the irresistible anxiety to discover what the orange whistles and the invisible globes on the other side of death were like. (p.403)

49. (…) among the psalms and cheap whore jewelry, the ruins of the past would rot, (…) (p.405)

50. (…) and that 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 thruth in the end. (p.408)

51. Many times they were awakened by the traffic of the dead. (p.416)

52. He put the child in the basket that his mother had prepared for him, covered the face of the corpse with a blanket, and wandered aimlessly through the town, searching for an entrance that went back to the past. (p.418)

53. (…) and in that flash of lucidity he became aware that he was unable to bear in his soul the crushing weight of so much past. (p.420)

54. Then the wind began, warm, incipient, full of voices from the past, the murmurs of ancient geraniums, sighs of disenchantment that preceded the most tenacious nostalgia. (p.421)

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