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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.

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
Years
Maggots
Would
Tear
Shed
Memory
Waste
Tears
Maggot
Rest
Simmering
Memories
Broth

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Age isn't how old you are but how old you feel.
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Do not allow me to forget you
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The truth is I'm getting old, I said. We already are old, she said with a sigh. What happens is that you don't feel it on the inside, but from the outside everybody can see it.
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The war is in the mountains,” he said. “For as long as I can remember, they have killed us in the cities with decrees, not with bullets.
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The weak would never enter the kingdom of love.
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Her heart of compressed ash, which had resisted the most telling blows of daily reality without strain, fell apart with the first waves of nostalgia.
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Amputees suffer pains, cramps, itches in the leg that is no longer there. That is how she felt without him, feeling his presence where he no longer was.
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Nothing resembles a person as much as the way he dies.
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You have to have spent the night at sea, sitting in a life raft and looking at your watch, to know that the night is immeasurably longer than the day.
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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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The people one loves should take all their things with them when they die.
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Thus they went on living in a reality that was slipping away, momentarily captured by words, but which would escape irremediably when they forgot the values of the written letters.
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He always considered death an unavoidable professional hazard.
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Her nakedness was not absolute, for like Manet's _Olympia__, behind her ear she had a poisonous flower with orange petals, and she also wore a gold bangle on her right wrist and a necklace of tiny pearls. I imagined I would never see anything more exciting for as long as I lived, and today I can confirm that I was right.
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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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Sex is the consolation you have when you can't have love.
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