A novel of poetic proportions

I recently read Gabriel Garcìa Màrquez's book, Love in the Time of Cholera, and while I recommend it with reservation due to content, it's form is exquisite. A Nobel Peace Prize winner, Màrquez writes prose that drips with intelligence, beauty, creativity, and purpose. Somehow, he makes even a novel sound poetic. Here are a few phrases and sentences that I underlined as I read just because of their brilliance:

"they almost always have crystals in their heart"
"insomniac dawns"
"like a wind out of yesterday"
"there was no innocence more dangerous than the innocence of age"
"the irreparable rush of days"
"those lips petrified by the terror of love"
"the charitable deceptions of nostalgia"
"the spell of habit"
"the bay belched filth from the sewers back onto land"
"the wintry eyes of his dog"
"the maggot broth of memory"
"the doe's gait of her younger days"
"he was living his final afternoons"
"the invincible weight of her age"

and my favorite:
"He recognized her despite the uproar, through his tears of unrepeatable sorrow at dying without her, and he looked at her for the last and final time with eyes more luminous, more grief-stricken, more grateful than she had ever seen them in half a century of a shared life, and he managed to say to her with his last breath: 'Only God knows how much I loved you.'"