The unity of form and content is what distinguishes poetry from other areas of creativity. However, this is precisely what titanic work implies. Wit and Wisdom of Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra (a book to read .txt) 📖
- Author: Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
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"You would then be more rigorous and cruel to them," said Vivaldo, "than their master himself.
"It is neither just nor wise to fulfil the will of him who commands what is utterly unreasonable.
"Augustus Cæsar deemed it wrong to consent to the execution of what the divine Mantuan commanded in his will; therefore, Signor Ambrosio, although you commit your friend's body to the earth, do not commit his writings also to oblivion; and if he has ordained like a man aggrieved, do not you fulfil like one without discretion, but rather preserve those papers, in order that the cruelty of Marcela may be still remembered, and serve for an example to those who shall live in times to come, that they may avoid falling down the like precipices; for I am acquainted, as well as my companions here, with the story of this your enamored and despairing friend; we know also your friendship, and the occasion of his death, and what he ordered on his deathbed; from which lamentable history we may conclude how great has been the cruelty of Marcela, the love of Chrysostom, and the sincerity of your friendship; and also learn the end of those who run headlong in the path that delirious passion presents to their view. Last night we heard of Chrysostom's death, and that he was to be interred in this place; led, therefore, by curiosity and compassion, we turned out of our way, and determined to behold with our eyes what had interested us so much in the recital; and, in return for our pity, and our desire to give aid, had it been possible, we beseech you, oh wise Ambrosio—at least I request it on my own behalf—that you will not burn the papers, but allow me to take some of them."
Then, without waiting for the shepherd's reply, he stretched out his hand and took some of those that were nearest to him: upon which Ambrosio said: "Out of civility, signor, I will consent to your keeping those you have taken; but if you expect that I shall forbear burning those that remain, you are deceived."
Vivaldo, desirous of seeing what the papers contained, immediately opened one of them, and found that it was entitled, "The Song of Despair." Ambrosio, hearing it, said: "This is the last thing which the unhappy man wrote; and that all present may conceive, signor, to what a state of misery he was reduced, read it aloud; for you will have time enough while they are digging the grave."
"That I will do with all my heart," said Vivaldo; and, as all the bystanders had the same desire, they assembled around him, and he read in an audible voice as follows:—
chrysostom's song.
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None of the shepherds departed until, the grave being made and the papers burnt, the body of Chrysostom was interred, not without many tears from the spectators. They closed the sepulchre with a large fragment of a rock until a tombstone was finished, which Ambrosio said it was his intention to provide, and to inscribe upon it the following epitaph:—
chrysostom's epitaph.
Then they strewed abundance of flowers and boughs on the grave, and after expressions of condolence to his friend Ambrosio, they took their leave of him.
All beauty does not inspire love; some please the sight without captivating the affections. If all beauties were to enamour and captivate, the hearts of mankind would be in a continual state of perplexity and confusion—for beautiful objects being infinite, the sentiments they inspire should also be infinite.
True love cannot be divided, and must be voluntary and unconstrained.
The viper deserves no blame for its sting, although it be mortal—because it is the gift of Nature.
Beauty in a modest woman is like fire or a sharp sword at a distance; neither doth the one burn nor the other wound those that come not too near them.
Honor and virtue are ornaments of the soul, without which the body, though it be really beautiful, ought not to be thought so.
Let him who is deceived complain.
Let him to whom faith is broken despair.
She who loves none can make none jealous, and sincerity ought not to pass for disdain.
Much time is necessary to know people thoroughly.
We are sure of nothing in this life.
There is no remembrance which time does not obliterate, nor pain which death does not terminate.
Fortune always leaves some door open in misfortune.
Sometimes we look for one thing and find another.
Self-praise depreciates.
The cat to the rat—the rat to the rope—the rope to the gallows.
Out of the frying-pan into the fire.
One man is no more than another, only inasmuch as he does more than another.
The lance never blunted the pen, nor the pen the lance.
A mouth without teeth is like a mill without a stone.
The dead to the bier, and the living to good cheer.
One effect of fear is to disturb the senses, and make things not to appear what they really are.
They saw, advancing towards them, on the same road, a great number of lights, resembling so many moving stars. Sancho stood aghast at the sight of them, nor was Don Quixote unmoved. The one checked his ass and the other his horse, and both stood looking before them with eager attention. They perceived that the lights were advancing towards them, and that as they approached nearer they appeared larger. Sancho trembled like quicksilver at the sight, and Don
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