What matters in life is not what happens to you but what you remember and how you remember it.

The year 2005 was the first in my life when I did not write a single line.

...human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, but...life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves.

People spend a lifetime thinking about how they would really like to live. I asked my friends and no one seems to know very clearly. To me it's very clear now. I wish my life could have been like the years when I was writing 'Love in the Time of Cholera.'

Ultimately, literature is nothing but carpentry. With both you are working with reality, a material just as hard as wood.

Nobody deserves your tears, but whoever deserves them will not make you cry.