It was inevitable: the scent of bitter almonds always reminded him of the fate of unrequited love.

An ash-gray dog with a white blaze on its forehead burst onto the rough terrain of the market on the first Sunday in December, knocked down tables of fried food, overturned Indians' stalls and lottery kiosks, and bit four people who happened to cross its path.

Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice...

The only regret I will have in dying is if it is not for love.

The usual for me." The usual was a strong infusion of different kinds of Oriental teas, which raised her spirits after her siesta.

It is not true that people stop pursuing dreams because they grow old, they grow old because they stop pursuing dreams.