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It was, at last, real life, with my heart safe and condemned to die of happy love in the joyful agony of any day after my hundredth birthday.
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
Life
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Last
Hundredth
Happy
Condemned
Real
Agony
Heart
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Love
Birthday
More quotes by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Santiago Nasar had often told me that the smell of closed-in flowers had an immediate relation to death for him.
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In the end all books are written for your friends.
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we had made love without love, half-dressed most of the time and always in the dark so we could imagine ourselves as better than we were.
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I discovered the miracle that all things that sound are music, including the dishes and silverware in the dishwasher, as long as they fulfill the illusion of showing us where life is heading.
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Fame invades your private life. It takes away from the time that you spend with friends, and the time that you can work. It tends to isolate you from the real world.
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If men gave birth, they'd be less inconsiderate.
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The only everyday and eternal reality was love.
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I'll never fall in love again... it's like having two souls at the same time.
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It had to teach her to think of love as a state of grace: not the means to anything but the alpha and omega, an end it itself.
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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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The only thing he could do to stay alive was not to allow himself the anguish of that memory. He erased it from his mind, although from time to time in the years that were left to him he would feel it revive, with no warning and for no reason, like the sudden pang of an old scar.
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No matter what you do this year or in the next hundred, you will be dead forever.
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Age isn't how old you are but how old you feel.
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And again, as always, after so many years we were still in the same place we always were.
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The woman let out an expansive laugh that resounded through the house like a spray of broken glass.
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To oppression, plundering and abandonment, we respond with life.
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In the end all books are written for your friends. The problem after writing One Hundred Years of Solitude was that now I no longer know whom of the millions of readers I am writing for this upsets and inhibits me. It's like a million eyes are looking at you and you don't really know what they think.
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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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For a week, almost without speaking, they went ahead like sleepwalkers through a universe of grief, lighted only by the tenuous reflection of luminous insects, and their lungs were overwhelmed by a suffocating smell of blood.
Gabriel Garcia Marquez
I’ve remained a virgin for you.
Gabriel Garcia Marquez
