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At some point, you no longer feel pain. Sensation disappears and reason is dulled, until you lose all grasp of time and place.
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
Time
Loses
Dulled
Suffering
Disappears
Point
Sensation
Pain
Grasp
Place
Sensations
Reason
Disappear
Feel
Longer
Feels
Lose
More quotes by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
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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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.
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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.
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One never quite stops believing, some doubt remains forever.
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In journalism just one fact that is false prejudices the entire work. In contrast, in fiction one single fact that is true gives legitimacy to the entire work. That's the only difference, and it lies in the commitment of the writer. A novelist can do anything he wants so long as he makes people believe in it.
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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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Crazy people are not crazy if one accepts their reasoning.
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Unfortunately many young writers are more concerned with fame than with their own work... It's much more important to write than to be written about.
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He did not dare to console her, knowing that it would have been like consoling a tiger run thru by a spear.
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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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As a writer I'm merely a journalist who has learned to write better than others.
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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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He was carrying a suitcase with clothing in order to stay and another just like it with almost two thousand letters that she had written him. They were arranged by date in bundles ties with colored ribbons, and they were all unopened.
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A falcon who chases a warlike crane can only hope for a life of pain.
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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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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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No, not rich. I am a poor man with money, which is not the same thing.
Gabriel Garcia Marquez
He pleaded so much that he lost his voice. His bones began to fill with words.
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I always had understood that dying of love was mere poetic license.
Gabriel Garcia Marquez
