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Category Archive for 'Quotations from OHYOS'

This semester I’ve been learning not only how to write, but how to live. Sure, there have been a lot of great metaphors, similes, and stories that exemplify what I wish I could write. Millhauser has a way with endings, which are the most infuriating portion of any story I’ve ever attempted to write. Johnson […]

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Gabriel Garcia Marquez has imagined a world that is boiling over with the fantastic, while managing to maintain an unwavering sense of reality in One Hundred Years of Solitude. The story of the town of Macondo, from birth to resolution, is formatted like a tale you’d hear while sitting around a camp fire or like […]

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There are so many instances of understatement, beautiful imagery, juxtaposition, and ridiculous logic in this book that make the fantastic elements believable. In this world, the dead travel with maps, chocolate is sufficient fuel for levitation, blood defies physics, lawyers bend reality, and the old fortune teller is actually right. Garcia Marquez fills the story […]

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Garcia Marquez includes in the novel facts which if attributed to any place but Macondo would seem outlandish exaggerations. It rained for four years, eleven months, and two days. (314) One Friday at two in the afternoon the world lighted up with a crazy crimson sun as harsh as brick dust and almost as cool […]

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I was impressed throughout this novel by how nonchalantly Garcia Marquez mentioned the occurance of fantastic events. He casually and for no apparent reason includes in his description of Úrsula having her husband moved into the house for his final days the information that not only was [José Arcadio Buendía] as heavy as ever, but […]

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“Light it with this,” he told her, handing her the first roll of yellowish papers. “It will burn better because they’re very old things.” (page 174) In a book that spans more than one hundred years, it’s natural that there will be some old people, old things, old papers, and old stories. Of course there […]

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‘We have still not had a death,’ he said. ‘A person does not belong to a place until there is someone dead under the ground.’ -Jose Arcadio Buendia, One Hundred Years of Solitude,  pg.13 Where he built his wife a bedroom without windows so that the pirates of her dream would have no way to […]

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He felt Amaranta’s fingers searching across his stomach like warm and anxious little caterpillars. Pretending to sleep, he changed his position to make it easier, and then he felt the hand without the black bandage diving like a blind shellfish into the algae of his anxiety. (page 142) Okay, I’ll go there. This may very […]

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The years nowadays don’t pass the way the old ones used to,” she would say, feeling that everyday reality was slipping through her hands. In the past, she thought, children took a long time to grow up.”  pg. 245 In Úrsula’s old age, she began to become confused with the progression of time.  At the […]

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From the moment in which she entered the room Ursula felt inhibited by the maturity of her son, by his aura of command, by the glow of authority that radiated from his skin. She was surprised that he was so well-informed. “You knew all along that I was a wizard,” he joked. And he added […]

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“Someone told him that it did not belong to anyone, that in former times a solitary widow who fed on earth and white-wash from the walls had lived there, and that in her last years she was seen only twice on the street with a hat of tiny artificial flowers and shoes the color of […]

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Gabriel García Márquez eloquently weaves the family tree of José Arcadio Buendía, who founded an isolated island town called Macondo. Márquez uses José Arcadio Buendía’s family tree as a facilitator throughout his prose. This is clever because it allows readers to understand three basic components of his story. First, by using a family tree, he […]

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But Melquiades’ tribe, according to what the wanderers said, had been wiped off the face of the earth because they had gone beyond the limits of human knowledge. Encompassing and understanding all knowledge is what José Arcadio Buendia has been striving for, in his inventions, in his study of alchemy and of the maps he […]

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‘Things have a life of their own,’ the gypsy proclaimed with a harsh accent. ‘It’s simply a matter of waking up their souls.’ José Arcadio Buendia, whose unbridled imagination always went beyond the genius of nature and even beyond miracles and magic, thought that it would be possible to make use of that useless invention […]

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Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendia was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice. At that time Macondo was a village of twenty adobe houses, built on the bank of a river of clear water that ran along a bed of polished stones, […]

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