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512 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1972
Happiness is preserved in champagne; all rum can do is ease your misery a little, maybe. Yes, sir; bad luck’s a hardy shoot: just stick it in the ground and forget it. It’ll grow all by itself, don’t you worry, and be putting out leaves in no time alongside of every road. There’s always plenty of it in a poor man’s yard, friend, even if there isn’t another green sprig to be found.
…she had so much yearned for true affection, been so thirsty for human warmth. And yet she could not give of herself easily, perhaps because the only jobs she had had up to then were as domestic help (slave, more accurately) and as prostitute and mistress, jobs in which she had lain with many men, at first out of fear and then to earn a living. Later, when she was awakened to physical desire and gave herself ardently and unstintingly, it was only for love. Liking was never enough.
resta il rimpianto di averlo affrontato troppo presto e forse di avermi inibito per sempre la lettura delle opere di amado.