The Only Regret I Will Have In

It Was A Love Of Perpetual Flight.

Humanity, Like Armies In The Field, Advances At The Speed Of The Slowest.

Santiago Nasar Had Often Told Me That The Smell Of Closed-in Flowers Had An Immediate Relation To Death For Him.

And Nevertheless, When They Watched Him Leave The House, This Man They Themselves Had Urged To Conquer The World, Then They Were The Ones Left With The Terror That He Would Never Return. That Was Their Life. Love, If It Existed, Was Something Separate: Another Life.

That's Maybe The Reason He Does So Many Things So That He Will Not Have To Think .