One Hundred Years of Solitude

abnegation, and his thick-
headedness perseverance, and
her insides tightened with
remorse over the virulence
with which she had attacked
his idleness. But Aureliano
Segundo was in no mood for
merciful reconciliations at
that time. Sunk up to his neck
in a morass of dead brandies
and rotting flowers, he flung
the dirt of the garden all
about after having finished
with the courtyard and the