Andreea

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Gabriel García Márquez
“A trickle of blood came out under the door, crossed the living room, went out into the street, continued on in a straight line across the uneven terraces, went down steps and climbed over curbs, passed along the Street of the Turks, turned a corner to the right and another to the left, made a right angle at the Buendía house, went in under the closed door, crossed through the parlor, hugging the walls so as not to stain the rugs, went on to the other living room, made a wide curve to avoid the dining-room table, went along the porch with the begonias, and passed without being seen under Amaranta's chair as she gave an arithmetic lesson to Aureliano José, and went through the pantry and came out in the kitchen, where Úrsula was getting ready to crack thirty-six eggs to make bread.

"Holy Mother of God!" Úrsula shouted.”
Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

Gabriel García Márquez
“The rain would not have bothered Fernanda, after all, her whole life had been spent as if it were raining.”
Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

Gabriel García Márquez
“because races condemned to one hundred years of solitude did not have a second opportunity on earth”
Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

Gabriel García Márquez
“Tell me something, old friend: why are you fighting?"
What other reason could there be?" Colonel Gerineldo Marquez answered. "For the great Liberal party."
You're lucky because you know why," he answered. "As far as I'm concerned, I've come to realize only just now that I'm fighting because of pride."
That's bad," Colonel Gerineldo Marquez said.
Colonel Aureliano Buendia was amused at his alarm. "Naturally," he said. "But in any case, it's better than not knowing why you're fighting." He looked him in the eyes and added with a smile:
Or fighting, like you, for something that doesn't have any meaning for anyone.”
Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

Gabriel García Márquez
“She had that rare virtue of never existing completely except for that opportune moment”
Gabriel Garcia Marquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

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