If God hadn't rested on Sunday, He would have had time to finish the world. - Gabriel García Márquez

Aureliano not only understood by then, he also lived
his brother’s experiences as something of his own, for on one occasion when the latter was
explaining in great detail the mechanism of love, he interrupted him to ask: “What does it feel
like?” José Arcadio gave an immediate reply:

“It’s like an earthquake.

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

She felt so old, so worn out, so far away from the best moments of her life that she even yearned for those that she remembered as the worst… Her heart of compressed ash, which had resisted the most telling blows of daily reality without strain, fell apart with the first waves of nostalgia. The need to feel sad was becoming a vice as the years eroded her. She became human in her solitude.