Finally, those small truths, faithfully lived, ripple outward and quietly outlast us. A grand theory might fade with fashion, but the remembered habits of a person—how they listened, forgave, or refused to lie—often become family lore. Just as Márquez’s fictional Macondo in “One Hundred Years of Solitude” (1967) is sustained by stories passed down, our written and enacted truths slowly turn into stories others repeat. In this way, brief, personal sentences become a kind of legacy: not carved in stone, but inscribed in the everyday choices of the people who watched us live them. [...]
