In the end they knew each other so well that by the time they had been married for thirty years they were like a single divided being, and they felt uncomfortable at the frequency with which they guessed each other's thoughts without intending to, or the ridiculous accident of one of them anticipating in public what the other was going to say. Together they had overcome the daily incomprehensible, the instantaneous hatred, the reciprocal nastiness and fabulous flashes of glory in the conjugal conspiracy.
Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez












