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

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Both looked back then on the wild revelry...and they lamented that it had cost them so much of their lives to find the paradise of shared solitude.
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He was still too young to know that the heart's memory eliminates the bad and magnifies the good, and that thanks to this artifice we manage to endure the burden of the past.
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She knew that he loved her above all else, more than anything in the world, but only for his own sake.
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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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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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As I kissed her the heat of her body increased, and it exhaled a wild, untamed fragrance.
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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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i discovered that my obsession for having each thing in the right place, each subject at the right time, each word in the right style, was not the well-deserved reward of an ordered mind, but just the opposite: a complete system of pretense invented by me to hide the disorder of my nature.
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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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