She searched the truth with an anguish almost as great as her terrible fear of finding it .

It's enough for me to be sure that you and I exist at this moment.

A man knows when he is growing old because he begins to look like his father.

It was inevitable: the scent of bitter almonds always reminded him of the fate of unrequited love.

a process of aging had taken place in him that was so rapid and critical that soon he was being treated as one of those useless great-grandfathers who wander about the bedroom like shades, dragging their feet, remembering better times aloud, and whom no one bother about or remembers really until the morning they find them dead in their bed.

In some way impossible to ascertain, after so many years of absense, Jose Arcadio was still an autumnal child, terribly sad and solitary.

She wanted to be herself again, to recover all that she had been obliged to give up in half a century of servitude that had doubtless made her happy but which, once her husband was dead, did not leave her even the vestiges of her identity.