You don't have to think about love; you either feel it or you don't.

No one who loves life can ignore literature, and no one who loves literature can ignore life.

[...] each of us is born with a box of matches inside us but we can't strike them all by ourselves

It was very pleasant to savor its aroma, for smells have the power to evoke the past, bringing back sounds and even other smells that have no match in the present. -Tita

Keeping secrets will always lead to unhappiness and communication is the key to love.

"Only the pots know the boiling points of the broths," she says as Tita weeps into the wedding batter she is making to celebrate the marriage of her sister to her own true love.

As a teacher I realize that what one learns in school doesn't serve for very much at all, that the only thing one can really learn is self understanding and this is something that can't be taught.

Words travel as swiftly as desire, so it is possible to send a message of love without them.

Then she cried without tears, which is said to hurt even more like dry labor.

To the table or to bed, you must come when you are bid.

The trouble with crying over an onion is that once the chopping gets you started and the tears begin to well up, the next thing you know you just can’t stop!

So-called intellectuals conceptualize love

I was in a tailspin of confusion I hadn't experienced since the first time I heard George W. Bush speak.

I think that between 27 and 37 was a really big learning decade.

The very day I purchased it, I christened my guitar as my monophonic symphony, six string orchestra.

Sometimes, Manny is taking a nap, and you woke up the baby. There's not a better retaliation, something like that. Manny's one of the best at that.

Heaven is not gone, but we are blind with tears, Groping our way along the downward slope of Years!

A recent study announced that 52 per cent of all teens who sign virginity pledges recant them within twelve months. If I'm on my game.

Don’t initiate! Follow the initiator! Follow the follower.

In the morn of life we are alert, we are heated in its noon, and only in its decline do we repose.

Art is the Western myth, with which we both console ourselves and make ourselves.