Don Quixote's misfortune is not his imagination, but Sancho Panza.

And I leave my post of observation and find I have had enough of this outside life; I feel that there is nothing more that I can learn here, either now or at any time. And I long to say a last goodbye to everything up here, to go down into my burrow never to return again, let things take their course, and not try to retard them with my profitless vigils.

Humility provides everyone, even him who despairs in solitude, with the strongest relationship to his fellow man.

Heaven is dumb, echoing only the dumb.

Don Quixote's misfortune is not his imagination, but Sancho Panza.

There is a goal but no way; what we call the way is mere wavering.

This noble body, equipped with everything necessary, almost to the point of bursting, also appeared to carry freedom around with it.