One Hundred Years of Solitude

"One could become drunk merely by taking the dust of the street in one's mouth."

"The world is magical, and you are the magician."

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

"It was as if God had decided to put to the test every capacity for surprise and was keeping the inhabitants of Macondo in a permanent alternation between doubt and revelation, doubt and revelation, to such an extreme that no one knew for certain where the limits of reality lay."

"All the sadness of the world was concentrated in that instant."

"The final days of the town arrived without fanfare or prophecy."

"To live is to accumulate more regrets than memories."

"The town existed in a state between reality and fiction."

"He spent his life creating intricate things, only to destroy them in the end."

"The circus that arrived was like a message from the real world."

"She had learned that love was not always gentle."

"The ghosts of the past walked freely through the town."

"He discovered that the future had already been written."

"There were marks of death throughout the house."

"The house would no longer harbor the sounds of children or lovers' laughter."

"She understood that passion was a force of nature beyond moral judgment."

"The old man rose and looked at the town in ruins and smiled with satisfaction."

"He was condemned to one hundred years of solitude."

"Remedios the Beautiful was too beautiful for this world."

"Every person on earth has a destiny, and his destiny is what makes him free."

"The war would end in such a way that neither of us would know if we won or lost."

"She carried her mother's silence within her like an inheritance."

"He was able to see through people as if they were made of glass."

"Mortification makes the flesh more vulnerable to despair."

"The past is composed of all that we have done and all that was done to us."

"She felt as though she were drowning in a labyrinth of words."

"It was understood that the years of prosperity had closed for the Buendías forever."

"No matter what happens, one would never possess her soul."

"The fever of war is incurable and those who suffer it cannot rest while there is blood left to spill."

"He had traveled far enough to know that these fantasies were not born from imagination."