Fourth of July picnic. And by the way, that picnic, like everything else in this land, is a model of efficiency: you drive at top speed, set up in a previously reserved space, spread out the baskets, bolt your food, kick the ball, and rush home to avoid the traffic. In Chile, a similar project would take three days.
How would I run with my bad leg? And what would become of the people who need my care? Besides, it doesn’t mean anything for me to be free and everyone else slaves,” the healer answered. Tete hadn’t thought of that, and it kept buzzing around her brain like a bottlefly. She talked about it with her godmother many times, but she was never able to accept the idea that her freedom was irreparably bound to that of the other slaves.
In that respect women are really thick. They’re the daughters of rigidity. They need a man to feel secure but they don’t realize that the one thing they should be afraid of is men. They don’t know how to run their lives. They have to sacrifice themselves for the sake of someone else.
Memory is fragile and capricious; each of us remembers and forgets according to what is convenient. The past is a notebook with many leaves on which we jot down our lives with ink that changes according to our state of mind.
I’m fine here, Lenny. I’m discovering who I am without all my ornaments and accessories. It’s quite a slow process, but a very useful one. Everybody ought to do the same at the end of their life. If I had any self-discipline I would beat my grandson to it and write my own memoirs. I have time, freedom, and silence, the three things I never had amidst all the noise of my earlier life. I’m preparing to die.” “That won’t.
I stroke them, and they always like that, because old people don’t have anyone who touches them, and I get them hooked on a TV series, because nobody wants to die before the final episode. Some of them find comfort in prayer, but there are lots of atheists here, and they don’t pray. What’s most important is not to leave them on their own.
The elderly are the most entertaining people in the world,” she eventually told Irina. “They have lived a lot, say whatever they like, and couldn’t care less about other people’s opinion. You’ll never get bored here. Our residents are well educated, and if they’re in good health they keep on learning and experimenting. This community stimulates them and they can avoid the worst scourge of old age: loneliness.” Irina.
He hoped that none of his descendants would get mixed up in politics, which was a trade for butchers and bandits.
Si una mujer ofrece la mejilla para que su novio no la bese en la boca, hasta un ciego puede ver que ya no siente amor.
Color prejudice is so strong that if a woman has yellow hair, even if she has the face of an iguana, men turn to look at her in the street.
Ja verujem da se naporan rad uvek nagradjuje.
Eso pasa con la edad: las historias del pasado cobran vida y se nos pegan en la piel.
Estas largas separaciones son peligrosas, el amor resbala por arenas inciertas.
An invisible border arose between the parts of the house occupied by Esteban Trueba and those occupied by his wife. In response to Clara’s imagination and the requirements of the moment, the noble, seigniorial architecture began sprouting all sorts of extra little rooms, staircases, turrets, and terraces... the big house on the corner soon came to resemble a labyrinth.
The wise man desires nothing; he does not judge, he makes no plans, he keeps his mind open and his.
And that fox escaped with his tail between his legs, with all of the hens chasing after him.
She awoke from a long childhood in which she had always been protected and surrounded by attention and comforts, with no responsibilities.
Time moves so slowly. Or perhaps it doesn’t move at all and it is we who pass through it.
I called him Grandfather, because according to him you do not have to be of the same blood or same tribe to be a member of the same family, but in truth I should have called him Maman. He was the only mother I ever knew.
I am frightened. I have known fear before, but there was always an escape; even during the terror of the military coup there was the salvation of exile. Now I am in a blind alley with all doors closed to hope, and I don’t know how to handle so much fear.