“I discovered that my obsession for having each thing in the right place, each subject at the right time, each word in the right style, was not the well-deserved reward of an ordered mind but just the opposite: a complete system of pretense invented by me to hide the disorder of my nature. I discovered that I am not disciplined out of virtue but as a reaction to my negligence, that I appear generous in order to conceal my meanness, that I pass myself off as prudent because I am evil-minded, that I am conciliatory in order not to succumb to my repressed rage, that I am punctual only to hide how little I care about other people’s time. I learned, in short, that love is not a condition of the spirit but a sign of the zodiac.”
― Memories of My Melancholy Whores
― Memories of My Melancholy Whores
“Both looked back then on the wild revelry...and they lamented that it had cost them so much of their lives to find the paradise of shared solitude.”
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“Over the years they both reached the same wise conclusion by different paths: it was not possible to live together in any other way, or love in any other way, and nothing in this world was more difficult than love.”
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“[A]nd both of them remained floating in an empty universe where the only everyday and eternal reality was love.”
― One Hundred Years of Solitude
― One Hundred Years of Solitude
Jeff’s 2025 Year in Books
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