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Preview — Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel García Márquez
He said that dogs were not loyal but servile, that cats were opportunists and traitors,
But if they had learned anything together, it was that wisdom comes to us when it can no longer do any good.
a Liberal president was exactly the same as a Conservative president, but not as well dressed.
her decision opened the door a crack, wide enough for the entire world to pass through.
“Take advantage of it now, while you are young, and suffer all you can,”
while the other instruments played for everyone, the violin played for her alone.
instead of the commotion of love, she felt the abyss of disenchantment.
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.
he had been an easy victim to the charitable deceptions of nostalgia.
English furniture made of wood that sighed in the icy cold of dawn,
Hildebranda had a universal conception of love, and she believed that whatever happened to one love affected all other loves throughout the world.
“He is ugly and sad,” she said to Fermina Daza, “but he is all love.”
“No, not rich,” he said. “I am a poor man with money, which is not the same thing.”
General Section, its name alone suggesting the vagueness of its functions, where problems that had not been solved elsewhere in the company went to die an ignominious death.
security, order, happiness, contiguous numbers that, once they were added together, might resemble love, almost be love. But they were not love,
He was a perfect husband: he never picked up anything from the floor, or turned out a light, or closed a door.
Dr. Juvenal Urbino delivered the historic letter, which was then mislaid among other papers and never seen again,
a kind of agonized longing to be pardoned for their indiscretion in still being alive.
the spaces that had been cleared, just as he predicted, began to fill up again, to overflow with things that lived for a moment and then went to die in the closets:
“I do not believe in God, but I am afraid of Him.”
they had seen each other for what they were: two old people, ambushed by death, who had nothing in common
He felt old, forlorn, useless, and his desire to cry was so urgent that he could not speak.
Ariza’s insatiable need for love overflowed with the illusion of feeling that he was part of a family.
love was always love, anytime and anyplace, but it was more solid the closer it came to death.