Memories of my…

Memories of My Melancholy Whores, by Gabriel García Márquez

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  1. Just finished this little gem of Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

    A lot of good reflections on aging and mortality, certainly, and on on sex and love and where they overlap and do not, but one of my favorite lines was the following self-critical reflection:

    “I discovered that my obsession for having each thing in the right place, each subject at the right time, each word in the right style, was not the well-deserved reward of an ordered mind but just the opposite: a complete system of pretense invented by me to hide the disorder of my nature. I discovered that I am not disciplined out of virtue but as a reaction to my negligence, that I appear generous in order to conceal my meanness, that I pass myself off as prudent because I am evil-minded, that I am conciliatory in order not to succumb to my repressed rage, that I am punctual only to hide how little I care about other people’s time.”

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