One Hundred Years of Solitude

oclock. The entreaties were
useless. Aureliano José, just
like Arcadio in other times,
had ceased to belong to her. It
was as if his return home, the
possibility of existing without
concerning himself with
everyday necessities, had
awakened in him the lewd
and lazy leanings of his uncle
José Arcadio. His passion for
Amaranta had been
extinguished without leaving
any scars. He would drift