One Hundred Years of Solitude

One minute of reconciliation is worth more than a whole life of friendship.

“What did you expect?” he murmured. “Time passes.”

“That’s how it goes,” Úrsula said, “but not so much.”

When she said it she realized that she was giving the same reply that Colonel Aureliano Buendía had given in his death cell, and once again she shuddered with the evidence that time was not passing, as she had just admitted, but that it was turning in a circle.

The secret of a good old age is simply an honorable pact with solitude.

A person doesn't die when he should but when he can.