Thou whose injustice hath supplied the cause That makes me quit the weary life I loathe, As by this wounded bosom thou canst see How willingly thy vi… - Miguel de Cervantes

أنا لن أتشاجر . ليتشاجر ويتقاتل سيدانا ،وهناك يلقيان بعضهما، ونحن نشرب ونعيش، فإن الزمن يسرق منا الحياة والدنيا فانية، وليس من واجبنا تقديم مشهيات للموت، حتى يقضى علينا قبل الأوان، ولنترك أنفسنا ثمارا تسقط عند نضجها.

For her my soul is of wax, where she can imprint whatever she pleases; and to preserve and guard it, it will not be as if imprinted in wax, but as if sculpted in marble, whose hardness withstands the passage of time.

Eventually Don Quixote’s last day on earth arrived, after he had received all the sacraments and had expressed, in many powerful words, his loathing of books of chivalry. The notary was present, and he said that he’d never read in any book of chivalry of any knight errant dying in his bed in such a calm and Christian manner as Don Quixote, who, amidst the tears and lamentations of everybody present, gave up the ghost; by which I mean to say he died.