But the lucidity of her old age allowed her to see, and she said so many times, that the cries of children in their moth — Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude
But the lucidity of her old age allowed her to see, and she said so many times, that the cries of children in their moth — Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude
But the lucidity of her old age allowed her to see, and she said so many times, that the cries of children in their moth — Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude
But the lucidity of her old age allowed her to see, and she said so many times, that the cries of children in their moth — Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude
But the lucidity of her old age allowed her to see, and she said so many times, that the cries of children in their moth — Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude
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But the lucidity of her old age allowed her to see, and she said so many times, that the cries of children in their mothers' wombs are not announcements of ventriloquism or a faculty for prophecy but an unmistakable sign of an incapacity for love.

— Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude
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