Don Quixote

In a village of La Mancha, the name of which I have no desire to call to mind, there lived not long since one of those gentlemen that keep a lance in the lance-rack, an old buckler, a lean hack, and a greyhound for coursing.

He gave himself up to reading books of chivalry with such ardour and avidity that he almost entirely neglected the pursuit of his field-sports, and even the management of his property. In short, his wits being quite gone, he hit upon the strangest notion that ever madman in this world hit upon.

Fortune is arranging matters for us better than we could have shaped our desires ourselves, for look there, friend Sancho Panza, where thirty or more monstrous giants present themselves, all of whom I mean to engage in battle and slay.

That enchanter Friston who carried off my study and books has turned these giants into mills in order to rob me of the glory of vanquishing them. Such is the enmity he bears me; but in the end his wicked arts will avail but little against my good sword.

Her name is Dulcinea, her country El Toboso, a village of La Mancha, her rank must be at least that of a princess, since she is my queen and lady, and her beauty superhuman, since all the impossible and fanciful attributes of beauty which the poets apply to their ladies are verified in her.

I know who I am, and who I may be, if I choose: not only those I have named, but all the Twelve Peers of France and all the Nine Worthies as well.

There is a remedy for everything except death. Let every man mind his own business, and let the goose go barefoot. Whether the pitcher hits the stone, or the stone hits the pitcher, it goes ill with the pitcher.

Naked came I into the world, and naked I find myself, so I neither lose nor gain. That is to say, I entered upon this government without a farthing, and I quit it without a farthing, very different from the way governors commonly leave other islands.

He who errs and mends himself commends himself to God. Patience, and shuffle the cards. Every man is the son of his own works.

I was mad, now I am in my senses; I was Don Quixote of La Mancha, I am now, as I said, Alonso Quixano the Good. May my repentance and sincerity restore me to the esteem you used to have for me.