One Hundred Years of Solitude Quotes

“لا ينتسبُ الإنسانُ إلى أرض لا موتى لهُ تحتَ ترابها”
― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

“إن المرء لا يموت عندما يتوجب عليه الموت، وإنما عندما يستطيع ذلك.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

“Y se fueron a morir de hambre y de amor al dormitorio.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

“حين يدخل الوباء بيتاً، لا يفلت منه أحد”
― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

“Amaranta would sigh, laugh, and dream of a second homeland of handsome men and beautiful women who spoke a childlike language, with ancient cities of whose past grandeur only the cats among the rubble remained.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

“Birisi, kabuk tutmuş yaralarımızı okşamaya başladığında, cırt diye açılıveriyor ve oluk oluk kanama başlıyor yeniden. Birine teslim olduğumuzda ve içimizi döktüğümüzde, bedenimiz ve ruhumuz kan içinde kalıveriyor. o yüzden değil mi, içimizde tutmalarımız, birine teslim olmaktan korkmalarımız, ortalıkta tedirgin ve gergin dolanmalarımız?
"anlatsam mı, anlatmasam mı?" kararsızlığımız..
"bu sevgi beni acıtır mı?" kuşkularımız.. Her zaman seni üzecek birileri olacaktır. Tek yapmamız gereken; sevginin bize vadettiklerine güvenmeyi sürdürmek, ama kime ikinci defa güveneceğimizi de iyi seçmek.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

“How awful," he said, "the way time passes!”
― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

“سوف ينحدر هذا العالم إلى الدرك الأسفل، عندما يسافر الناس في الدرجة الأولى، بينما يوضع الأدب في مركبة الشحن”
― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

“y una vez más se estremeció con la comprobación de que el tiempo no pasaba, como ella lo acababa de admitir, sino que daba vueltas en redondo.”
― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, Cien años de soledad

“...her own experience was beginning to tell her that an alert old age can be more keen than the cards.”
― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

“Don't worry," he would say, smiling. "Dying is much more difficult than one imagines.”
― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

“He was weary of the uncertainty, of the vicious circle of that eternal war that always found him in the same place, but always older, wearier, even more in the position of not knowing why, or how, or even when.”
― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

“Tell him,' the colonel said, smiling, 'that a person doesn't die when he should but when he can.”
― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

“Come here, he said. Rebeca obeyed. She stopped beside the hammock in an icy sweat, feeling knots forming in her intestines, while Jose Arcadio stroked her ankle with the tips of his fingers, then her calves, then her thighs, murmuring: Oh, little sister, little sister. She had to make a supernatural effort not to die when a startlingly regulated cyclonic power lifted her up by the waist and despoiled her of her intimacy with 3 slashes of its claws and quartered her like a little bird. She managed to thank God for having been born before she lost herself in the inconcievable pleasure of that unbearable pain...”
― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

“إذا لم تخش الله, فتأمل المعادن وسوف تخشاه”
― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

“[…] she kept the madness of her heart intact.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

“—¿Qué dice? —preguntó. —Está muy triste —contestó Úrsula— porque cree que te vas a morir. —Dígale —sonrió el coronel— que uno no se muere cuando debe, sino cuando puede.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

“La casa se llenó de amor. Aureliano lo expresó en versos que no tenían principio ni fin. Los escribía en los ásperos pergaminos que le regalaba Melquíades, en las paredes del baño, en la piel de sus brazos, y en todos aparecía Remedios transfigurada: Remedios en el aire soporífero de las dos de la tarde, Remedios en la callada respiración de las rosas, Remedios en la clepsidra secreta de las polillas, Remedios en el vapor del pan al amanecer, Remedios en todas partes y Remedios para siempre”
― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

“The uncertainty of the future made them turn their hearts toward the past. They saw themselves in the lost paradise of the deluge, splashing in the puddles in the courtyard, killing lizards to hang on Úrsula, pretending that they were going to bury her alive, and those memories revealed to them the truth that they had been happy together ever since they had had memory.”
― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

“Go away,” she said voicelessly.
Aureliano, smiled, picked her up by the waist with both hands like a pot of begonias, and dropped her on her back on the bed. With a brutal tug he pulled off her bathrobe before she had time to resist and he loomed over an abyss of newly washed nudity whose skin color, lines of fuzz, and hidden moles had all been imagined in the shadows of the other rooms. Amaranta Úrsula defended herself sincerely with the astuteness of a wise woman, weaseling her slippery, flexible, and fragrant weasel’s body as she tried to knee him in the kidneys and scorpion his face with her nails, but without either of them giving a gasp that might not have been taken for that”“breathing of a person watching the meager
April sunset through the open window. It was a fierce fight, a battle to the death, but it seemed to be without violence because it consisted of distorted attacks and ghostly evasions, slow, cautious, solemn, so that during it all there was time for the petunias to bloom and for Gaston to forget about his aviator’s dream in the next room, as if they were
two enemy lovers seeking reconciliation at the bottom of an aquarium. In the heat of that savage and ceremonious struggle, Amaranta Úrsula understood that her meticulous silence was so irrational that it could awaken the suspicions of her nearby husband much
more than the sound of warfare that they were trying to avoid. Then she began to laugh with her lips tight together, without giving up the fight, but defending herself with false bites and deweaseling her body little by little until they both were conscious of being adversaries and accomplices at the same time and the affray degenerated into a
conventional gambol and the attacks became”“caresses. Suddenly, almost playfully, like one more bit of mischief, Amaranta Úrsula dropped her defense, and when she tried to recover, frightened by what she herself had made possible, it was too late. 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 whistles and the invisible globes on the other side of death were like. She barely had time to reach out her hand and grope for the towel to put a gag between her teeth so that she would not let out the cat howls that were already tearing at her insides.”
― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

“La necesidad de sentirse triste se le iba convirtiendo en un vicio a medida que la devastaban los años.”
― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, Cien años de soledad

“«Lo que me preocupa —agregó— es que de tanto odiar a los militares, de tanto combatirlos, de tanto pensar en ellos, has terminado por ser igual a ellos. Y no hay un ideal en la vida que merezca tanta abyección.»”
― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, Cien años de soledad

“The ancient priest who had taken Father Angel’s place and whose name no one had bothered to find out awaited God’s mercy stretched out casually in a hammock, tortured by arthritis and the insomnia of doubt while the lizards and rats fought over the inheritance of the nearby church.”
― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

“She did not understand why women complicated their lives with corsets and petticoats, so she sewed herself a coarse cassock that she simply put over her and without further difficulties resolved the problem of dress, without taking away the feeling of being naked, which according to her lights was the only decent way to be when at home.”
― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

“It was simply a way of giving herself some relief, because actually they were joined till death by a bond that was more solid than love: a common prick of conscience.”
― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

“Tired of that hermeneutical delirium, the workers turned away from the authorities in Macondo and brought their complaints up to the higher courts. It was there that the sleight-of-hand lawyers proved that the demands lacked all validity for the simple reason that the banana company did not have, never had had, and never would have any workers in its service because they were all hired on a temporary and occasional basis. So that the fable of the Virginia ham was nonsense, the same as that of the miraculous pills and the Yuletide toilets, and by a decision of the court it was established and set down in solemn decrees that the workers did not exist.”
― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

“El mundo era tan reciente, que muchas cosas carecían de nombre, y para mencionarlas había que señalarlas con el dedo.”
― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, Cien años de soledad

“José Arcadio’s companion asked them to leave them alone, and the couple lay down on the ground, close to the bed. The passion of the others woke up José Arcadio’s fervor. On the first contact the bones of the girl seemed to become disjointed with a disorderly crunch like the sound of a box of dominoes, and her skin broke out into a pale sweat and her eyes filled with tears as her whole body exhaled a lugubrious lament and a vague smell of mud. But she bore the impact with a firmness of character and a bravery that were admirable. José Arcadio felt himself lifted up into the air toward a state of seraphic inspiration, where his heart burst forth with an outpouring of tender obscenities that entered the girl through her ears and came out of her mouth translated into her language.”
― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

“There was always someone outside of the chalk circle. Someone who needed money, someone who had a son with whooping cough, or someone who wanted to go off and sleep forever because he could not stand the shit taste of war in his mouth and who nonetheless, stood at attention to inform him: "Everything normal, Colonel." And normality was precisely the most fearful part of that infinite war: nothing ever happened.”
― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

“Then she told him to look in the bedroom and Aureliano Segundo saw the mule. Its skin was clinging to its bones like that of its mistress, but it was just as alive and resolute as she. Petra Cotes had fed it with her wrath, and when there was no more hay or corn or roots, she had given it shelter in her own bedroom and fed it on the percale sheets, the Persian rugs, the plush bedspreads, the velvet drapes, and the canopy embroidered with gold thread and silk tassels on the episcopal bed.”
― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude