nothing in this world was more difficult than love.

and realized that death was not only a permanent probability, as he had always believed, but an immediate reality.

She sensed it, saw my eyes wet with tears, and only then must have discovered I was no longer the man I had been, and I endured her glance with a courage I never thought I had.

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

The rain would not have bothered Fernanda, after all, her whole life had been spent as if it were raining.

He could not understand why he had needed so many words to explain what he felt in war because one was enough: fear. ~Jose Aracadio Segundo Buendia After the second banana slaughter

An artisan without memories, whose only dream was to die of fatigue in the oblivion and misery of his little gold fishes.