Gabriel García Márquez Quotes

Fiction was invented the day Jonah arrived home and told his wife that he was three days late because he had been swallowed by a whale..

I'm at the mercy of a destiny that isn't mine.

Together they had overcome the daily incomprehension, the instantaneous hatred, the reciprocal nastiness, and fabulous flashes of glory in the conjugal conspiracy. It was time when they both loved each other best, without hurry or excess, when both were most conscious of and grateful for their incredible victories over adversity. Life would still present them with other moral trials, of course, but that no longer mattered: they were on the other shore.

his examination revealed that he had no fever, no pain anywhere, and that his only concrete feeling was an urgent desire to die. All that was needed was shrewd questioning...to conclude once again that the symptoms of love were the same as those of cholera.

كان ما يزال شـابا لا يعرف أن ذاكرة القلب تمحو كل الذكريات السيئة و تُضخم الذكريات الطيبة.. و أننا بفضل هذه الخدعة نتمكن من تحمل الماضي.

El corazón tiene mas cuartos que un hotel de putas

Don't let yourself die without knowing the wonder of fucking with love.

and realized that death was not only a permanent probability, as he had always believed, but an immediate reality.

Why do you insist on talking about what does not exist?

He is ugly and sad... but he is all love.

There [is] no innocence more dangerous than the innocence of age.

Life is not what one lived, but what One remembers and how One remembers it in order to recount it

She discovered with great delight that one does not love one's children just because they are one's children but because of the friendship formed while raising them.

[A]nd both of them remained floating in an empty universe where the only everyday and eternal reality was love.

The most prosperous countries have succeeded in accumulating powers of destruction such as to annihilate, a hundred times over, not only all the human beings that have existed to this day, but also the totality of all living beings that have ever drawn breath on this planet of misfortune. On a day like today, my master William Faulkner said, "I decline to accept the end of man." I would fall unworthy of standing in this place that was his, if I were not fully aware that the colossal tragedy he refused to recognize thirty-two years ago is now, for the first time since the beginning of humanity, nothing more than a simple scientific possiblity. Faced with this awesome reality that must have seemed a mere utopia through all of human time, we, the inventors of tales, who will believe anything, feel entitled to believe that it is not yet too late to engage in the creation of the opposite utopia. A new and sweeping utopia of life, where no one will be able to decide for others how they die, where love will prove true and happiness be possible, and where the races condemned to one hundred years of solitude will have, at last and forever, a second opportunity on earth.