“An artisan without memories, whose only dream was to die of fatigue in the oblivion and misery of his little gold fishes.”

“They could hear Ursula fighting against the laws of creation to maintain the line, and Jose Arcadio Buendia searching for the mythical truth of the great inventions, and Fernanda praying, and Colonel Aureliano Buendia stupefying himself with the deception of war and the little gold fishes, and Aureliano Segundo dying of solitude in the turmoil of his debauches, and then they learned that dominant obsessions can prevail against death and they were happy again with the certainty that they would go on loving each other in their shape as apparitions long after other species of future animals would steal from the insects the paradise of misery that the insects were finally stealing from man.”

“Those who wanted to sleep, not from fatigue but because of the nostalgia of dreams...”

“Escaped the torments of memory with the aromatic fumes of gold cyanide”

“Amaranta would sigh, laugh, and dream of a second homeland of handsome men and beautiful women who spoke a childlike language, with ancient cities of whose past grandeur only the cats among the rubble remained.”

“I want the same one, the way she always is, without failures, without fights, without bad memories.”

“Each man is master of his own death, and all that we can do when the time comes is to help him die without fear of pain.”