An ash-gray dog with a white blaze on its forehead burst onto the rough terrain of the market on the first Sunday in December, knocked down tables of… - Gabriel García Márquez

There is no greater glory than to die for love.

Upset by two nostalgias facing each other like two mirrors, he lost his marvelous sense of unreality and he ended up recommending to all of them that they leave Macondo, that they forget everything he had taught them about the world and the human heart, that they shit on Horace, and that wherever they might be they always remember that the past was a lie, that memory has no return, that every spring gone by could never be recovered, and that the wildest and most tenacious love was an ephemeral truth in the end.

The weak would never enter the kingdom of love, which is a harsh & ungenerous kingdom & that women gives themselves only to men of resolute spirit, who provides the security they need in order to face life