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An artisan without memories, whose only dream was to die of fatigue in the oblivion and misery of his little gold fishes.

Gabriel Garcia Marquez

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Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Age: 87 †
Born: 1927
Born: March 6
Died: 2014
Died: April 17
Autobiographer
Journalist
Novelist
Playwright
Poet Lawyer
Prosaist
Publisher
Screenwriter
Short Story Writer
Writer
LA
California
Gabriel José García Márquez
Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Gabriel Jose Garcia Marquez
Gabriel José de la Concordia García Márquez
Gabriel Jose de la Concordia Garcia Marquez
Little
Fishes
Without
Misery
Gold
Whose
Memories
Artisan
Dies
Artisans
Dream
Fatigue
Littles
Oblivion

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He always considered death an unavoidable professional hazard.
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She would not shed a tear, she would not waste the rest of her years simmering in the maggot broth of memory.
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Necessity has the face of a dog.
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Freedom is often the first casualty of war.
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and it was always without pretensions of loving or being loved although always in the hope of finding something that resembled love but without the problems of love.
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And nevertheless, when they watched him leave the house, this man they themselves had urged to conquer the world, then they were the ones left with the terror that he would never return. That was their life. Love, if it existed, was something separate: another life.
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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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I never had intimate friends, and the few who came close are in New York. By which I mean they're dead, because that's where I suppose condemned souls go in order not to endure the truth of their past lives.
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She sensed it, saw my eyes wet with tears, and only then must have discovered I was no longer the man I had been, and I endured her glance with a courage I never thought I had.
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The secret of a good old age is simply an honorable pact with solitude.
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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.
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Inspiration gives no warnings.
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Never stop smiling not even when you're sad, someone might fall in love with your smile.
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Very well, I will marry you if you promise not to make me eat eggplant.
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All my life, I've been frightened at the moment I sit down to write.
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Aureliano not only understood by then, he also lived his brother’s experiences as something of his own, for on one occasion when the latter was explaining in great detail the mechanism of love, he interrupted him to ask: “What does it feel like?” José Arcadio gave an immediate reply: “It’s like an earthquake.
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I do not believe there is a method better than Montessori for making children sensitive to the beauties of the world and awakening their curiosity regarding the secrets of life.
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Fernanda, on the other hand, looked for it in vain along the paths of her everyday itinerary without knowing that the search for lost things is hindered by routine habits and that is why it is so difficult to find them.
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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 bells and whistles and the invisible globes on the other side of death were like.
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She knew that it would not be easy to submit to his miserliness, or the foolishness of his premature appearance of age, or his maniacal sense of order, or his eagerness to as for everything and give nothing at all in return, but despite all this, no man was better company because no other man in the world was so in need of love.
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