One Hundred Years of Solitude

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Now, he said in a final
way, I hope that nobody in
this house ever talks to me
about money again.


            That    was what    happened.

Úrsula had the bills taken
down, stuck to great cakes of
whitewash, and the house was
painted white again. Dear
Lord, she begged, make us
poor again the way we were
when we founded this town
so that you will not collect for

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