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On the day they were going to kill him, Santiago Nasar got up at five-thirty in the morning to wait for the boat the bishop was coming on. He'd dreamed he was going through a grove of timber trees where a gentle drizzle was falling, and for an instant he was happy in his dream. - Chronicle of a Death Foretold [Books (First Lines)] It was inevitable: the scent of bitter almonds always reminded him of the fate of unrequited love. Dr. Juvenal Urbino noticed it as soon as he entered the still darkened house where he had hurried on an urgent call to attend a case that for him had lost all urgency many years before. The Antillean refugee Jeremiah de Saint-Armour, disabled war veteran, photographer of children, and his most sympathetic opponent in chess, had escaped the torments of memory with the aromatic fumes of gold cyanide. - Love in the Time of Cholera [Books (First Lines)] The year I turned ninety, I wanted to give myself the gift of a night of wild love with an adolescent virgin. - Memories of My Melancholy Whores [Books (First Lines)] Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, General Aureliano Buendia was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice. - One Hundred Years of Solitude [Books (First Lines)]
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