The Road To The Inn Is Much

The Beauty Of Some Women Has Days And Seasons, Depending Upon Accidents Which Diminish Or Increase It; Nay, The Very Passions Of The Mind Naturally Improve Or Impair It, And Very Often Utterly Destroy It.

She Wanted, With Her Fickleness, To Make My Destruction Constant; I Want, By Trying To Destroy Myself, To Satisfy Her Desire.

For If He Like A Madman Lived; At Least He Like A Wise One Died.

The Wounds Received In Battle Bestow Honor, They Do Not Take It Away.

Don Quixote Followed Nature, And Being Satisfied With His First Sleep, Did Not Solicit More. As For Sancho, He Never Wanted A Second, For The First Lasted Him From Night To Morning, Indicating A Sound Body And A Mind Free From Care; But His Master, Being Unable To Sleep Himself Awakened Him, Saying, "i Am Amazed, Sancho, At The Torpor Of Thy Soul; It Seems As If Thou Wert Made Of Marble Or Brass, Insensible Of Emotion Or Sentiment!