Lost in the solitude of his immense power, he began to lose direction.
One Hundred Years of Solitude, Gabriel García Màrquez

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Lost in the solitude of his immense power, he began to lose direction.
One Hundred Years of Solitude, Gabriel García Màrquez
Wherever they might be they always remember that the past was a lie, that memory has no return, that every spring gone by could never be recovered, and that the wildest and most tenacious love was an ephemeral truth in the end.
One Hundred Years of Solitude, Gabriel Garcìa Màrquez
'Tell him,' the colonel said, smiling, 'that a person doesn’t die when he should but when he can'.
One Hundred Years of Solitude, Gabriel García Márquez
There is always something left to love.
One Hundred Years of Solitude, Gabriel Garcia Marquez
People always think that if they can prove they're right, you'll change your mind.
Peter Cameron, Someday This Pain Will Be Useful to You
I wish the whole day were like breakfast, when people are still connected to their dreams, focused inward, and not yet ready to engage with the world around them. I realized this is how I am all day; for me, unlike other people, there doesn't come a moment after a cup of coffee or a shower or whatever when I suddenly feel alive and awake and connected to the world. If it were always breakfast, I would be fine.
Peter Cameron, Someday This Pain Will Be Usefull For You
I have not the pleasure of understanding you.
Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
There’s a kind of white moth, I don’t know what kind, that glimmers by mid-May in the forest, just as the pink mocassin flowers are rising. If you notice anything, it leads you to notice more and more. And anyway I was so full of energy. I was always running around, looking at this and that. If I stopped the pain was unbearable. If I stopped and thought, maybe the world can’t be saved, the pain was unbearable. Finally, I noticed enough. All around me in the forest the white moths floated. How long do they live, fluttering in and out of the shadows? You aren’t much, I said one day to my reflection in a green pond, and grinned. The wings of the moths catch the sunlight and burn so brightly. At night, sometimes, they slip between the pink lobes of the moccasin flowers and lie there until dawn, motionless in those dark halls of honey.
Mary Oliver
It is not that we have so little time but that we lose so much. ... The life we receive is not short but we make it so; we are not ill provided but use what we have wastefully
Seneca, On The Shortness of Life
You act like mortals in all that you fear, and like immortals in all that you desire.
Seneca, On Shortness Of Life
All cruelty springs from weakness.
Seneca, Seneca's morals: Of a happy life, Benefits, Anger and Clemency.
That's what art is: escaping everyday normality, which wants to eat you alive.
Stefano Benni, Margherita Dolcevita
If you meet an angel, you will have not peace, but a fever.
Stefano Benni, Margherita Dolcevita
The world’s full of details, have you noticed? And since no detail is ever repeated in exactly the same shape and always sets off other details, there’s no end to it.
Fred Vargas, The Ghost Riders Of Ordebec
I need to be alone. I need to ponder my shame and my despair in seclusion; I need the sunshine and the paving stones of the streets without companions, without conversation, face to face with myself, with only the music of my heart for company. Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer
We always fear losing our memory, yet it’s the source of our troubles. Happy people forget.
Jean-Michel Guenassia, The Incorrigible Optimists Club
You, too, are cut out for failure; not that you’d fight the world. You’d let it chew you up and spit you out, and you’d lie there wondering what was wrong. Because you’d always expect the world to be something it wasn’t, something it had no wish to be. The weevil in the cotton, the worm in the beanstalk, the borer in the corn. You couldn't face them, and you couldn't fight them; because you’re too weak, and you’re too strong. And you have no place to go in the world.
John Williams, Stoner