One Hundred Years of Solitude

“Things have a life of their own,” the gypsy proclaimed with a harsh accent. “It’s simply a matter of waking up their souls.”

pernicious

The world was so recent that many things lacked names, and in order to indicate them it was necessary to point.

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

splashing in a bog of hesitation

abnegation,

glacial exhalation.

That tardy shudder which had not figured in his forethought made his breakfast bitter.

didactic,