One Hundred Years of Solitude

by Gabriel García Márquez

“A person does not belong to a place until there is someone dead under the ground.”

He really had been through death, but he had returned because he could not bear the solitude.

Same

the secret of a good old age is simply an honorable pact with solitude.

“that a person doesn’t die when he should but when he can.”

“The world must be all fucked up,” he said then, “when men travel first class and literature goes as freight.”