Miguel de Cervantes Quotes

"I come not, Ambrosia for any of the purposes thou hast named," replied Marcela, "but to defend myself and to prove how unreasonable are all those who blame me for their sorrow and for Chrysostom's death; and therefore I ask all of you that are here to give me your attention, for will not take much time or many words to bring the truth home to persons of sense. Heaven has made me, so you say, beautiful, and so much so that in spite of yourselves my beauty leads you to love me; and for the love you show me you say, and even urge, that I am bound to love you. By that natural understanding which God has given me I know that everything beautiful attracts love, but I cannot see how, by reason of being loved, that which is loved for its beauty is bound to love that which loves it; besides, it may happen that the lover of that which is beautiful may be ugly, and ugliness being detestable, it is very absurd to say, "I love thee because thou art beautiful, thou must love me though I be ugly." But supposing the beauty equal on both sides, it does not follow that the inclinations must be therefore alike, for it is not every beauty that excites love, some but pleasing the eye without winning the affection; and if every sort of beauty excited love and won the heart, the will would wander vaguely to and fro unable to make choice of any; for as there is an infinity of beautiful objects there must be an infinity of inclinations, and true love, I have heard it said, is indivisible, and must be voluntary and not compelled. If this be so, as I believe it to be, why do you desire me to bend my will by force, for no other reason but that you say you love me? Nay — tell me — had Heaven made me ugly, as it has made me beautiful, could I with justice complain of you for not loving me? Moreover, you must remember that the beauty I possess was no choice of mine, for, be it what it may, Heaven of its bounty gave it me without my asking or choosing it; and as the viper, though it kills with it

There is no love lost between us.

Comparisons are odious.

For me alone Don Quixote was born and I for him. His was the power of action, mine of writing.

It will be easier to bend thy will to love on who adores thee, than to lead one to love thee who abhors thee now

When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies? Perhaps to be too practical is madness. To surrender dreams — this may be madness. Too much sanity may be madness — and maddest of all: to see life as it is, and not as it should be!

When a rich man is hurt, his wail goeth heavens high. (Sancho Panza)

...if the verses are for a literary competition, your grace should try to win second place; first is always won through favor or because of the high estate of the person, second is won because of pure justice, and by this calculation third becomes second, and the first becomes third...

Without a wink of sleep.

Halt! ill-born rabble, follow him not nor pursue him, or ye will have to reckon with me in battle!

"Ah, but Senor!" exclaimed the niece, "your Grace should send them to be burned along with the rest; for I shouldn't wonder at all if my uncle, after he has been cured off this chivalry sickness, reading one of these books, should take it into his head to become a shepherd and go wandering through the woods and meadows singing and piping, or, what is worse, become a poet, which they say is an incurable disease and one that is very catching."

A bad year and a bad month to all the backbiting bitches in the world!...

I’m a peaceful, mild, and quiet man, and I know how to conceal any insult because I have a wife and children to support and care for.

It will grieve me so to the heart, that I shall cry my eyes out.

Eso me parece, Sancho — dijo don Quijote — , a lo que sucedió a un famoso poeta destos tiempos, el cual, habiendo hecho una maliciosa sátira contra todas las damas cortesanas, no puso ni nombró en ella a una dama que se podía dudar si lo era o no; la cual, viendo que no estaba en la lista de las demás, se quejó al poeta, diciéndole que qué había visto en ella para no ponerla en el número de las otras, y que alargase la sátira, y la pusiese en el ensanche; si no, que mirase para lo que había nacido. Hízolo así el poeta, y púsola cual no digan dueñas, y ella quedó satisfecha, por verse con fama, aunque infame.