One Hundred Years of Solitude

was reasonable to believe that
he had done nothing else
during his stay in Macondo.
The only people with whom
he maintained relations were
the four friends, whom he had
exchanged their tops and
kites for books, and he set
them to reading Seneca and
Ovid while they were still in
grammar school. He treated
the classical writers with a
household familiarity, as if
they had all been his