Old people, with other old people, are not so old.

The more transparent the writing, the more visible the poetry.

People spend a lifetime thinking abouthow they would really like to live. I asked my friends and no one seems to know very clearly. To me, it's very clear now. I wish my life could have been like the years when I was writing 'Love in the Time of Cholera.'

Thinking that it would console him, she took a piece of charcoal and erased the innumerable loves that he still owed her for, and she voluntarily brought up her own most solitary sadnesses so as not to leave him alone in his weeping.

It was a lone voice in the middle of the ocean, but it was heard at great depth and great distance.

One minute of reconciliation is worth more than a whole life of friendship!

The weak would never enter the kingdom of love.