Ultimately, Literature Is Nothing But Carpentry. With

The First Of The Line Is Tied To A Tree And The Last Is Being Eaten By The Ants .

Nobody Is Worth Crying For, And Those That Are Worth It Will Not Make You Cry.

Intrigued By That Enigma, He Dug So Deeply Into Her Sentiments That In Search Of Interest He Found Love, Because By Trying To Make Her Love Him He Ended Up Falling In Love With Her.

If God Hadn't Rested On Sunday, He Would Have Had Time To Finish The World.

It Was Also Her Nature That Caused Her Letters To Avoid Emotional Pitfalls And Confine Themselves To Relating The Events Of Her Daily Life In The Utilitarian Style Of A Ship's Log. In Reality They Were Distracted Letters, Intended To Keep The Coals Alive Without Putting Her Hand In The Fire, While Florentino Ariza Burned Himself Alive In Every Line.