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"Perhaps this is what the stories meant when they called somebody heartsick. Your heart and your stomach and your whole insides felt empty and hollow and aching."
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"Sometimes day and night reverse. Sometimes up goes down and down goes up, and love turns into hate, and the things you counted on get washed out from under your feet, leaving you pedaling in the air. Sometimes people stop loving you. And that's the kind of darkness that never gets fixed, no matter how many moons rise again, filling the sky with a weak approximation of light."

"How does it feel, to break a part of you each day and feed to the demons inside the other person in the name of love? How many days will you do that? Have your ever thought, about what happens after those demons had enough of you and decide to leave you for the taste of new soul? Look at yourself once. How much of you is remaining for yourself? Will ever get that part of you back?"

"Finding out that you are not your lover's only lover hurts, but not as much as discovering that you are the side chick - or the side dick."

"Until this moment, I had not realized that someone could break your heart twice, along the very same fault lines."

"How can I be reasonable? To me our love was everything and you were my whole life. It is not very pleasant to realize that to you it was only an episode."

"Yesterday, today, tomorrow and maybe forever, living and leaving without you."

"I stood in your doorway this morningdreaming you'd turn aroundyou'd tilt your headyou'd softly whisper stayor that you'd grab my armsto shake me while askingwhat the hell are we doingwe loveeach otherand this is not rightso we will make this worknow stay!You poured your coffee. Stirred the spoon like a crystal manwith your back to me and not a sound. the fridge humming elegies while the clock ticked onand the streets are so clean here people rushing to workand maybe I should be tooby nowat this agethis stagethis town.I will stand in that doorway dreamingfor many nights to come."

"She went indoors in that peculiar state of misery which is not exactly grief, and which especially attends the dawnings of reason in the latter days of an ill-judged, transient love. To be conscious that the end of the dream is approaching, and yet has not absolutely come, is one of the most wearisome as well as the most curious stages along the course between the beginning of a passion and its end."

"Dark hair on a white pillow, an ache inside, his face a reflection in her eye."

"I'll be too drunk to fight when you ask why I prefer to hurt, so I'll start hurling stupid phrases like I love you at your naked chest, but no matter what I try, they'll all sound like cheap threats."
Explore more quotes by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

"Without intending to, without even knowing it, he demonstrated with his life that his father had been right when he repeated until his dying day that there was no one with more common sense, no stonecutter more obstinate, no manager so lucid or dangerous, than a poet."

"I see nothing that can unite us under the auspices of innocence and honor," he wrote to her. "In the future you will be alone, although at your husband's side, and I will ab alone in the midst of the world. The glory of having conquered ourselves will be our only consolation."

"It had never occurred to him until then to think that literature was the best plaything that had ever been invented to make fun of people..."

"She made a visual inventory of the disaster and confirmed that the girl was curled up like a snail, her head hidden between her arms: terrified but intact. "My God!" Rosa Cabarcas exclaimed. "What I wouldn't have given for a love like this!"

"We men are the miserable slaves of prejudice. But when a woman decides to sleep with a man, there is no wall she will not scale, no fortress she will not destroy, no moral consideration she will not ignore at its very root: there is no God worth worrying about."

"Eran gentes de vidas lentas, a las cuales no se les veía volverse viejas, ni enfermarse ni morir, sino que iban desvaneciéndose poco a poco en su tiempo, volviéndose recuerdos, brumas de otra época, hasta que los asimilaba el olvido."

"Her movements were so stealthy that she seemed to be an invisible creature. Frightened by her strange nature, her mother had hung a cowbell around the girl's wrist so she would not lose track of her in the shadows of the house."
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