Terra Nostra - pg. 756

Slowly Felipe climbed, holding the feverish hand of Mihail-ben-Sama.
This time he closed his eyes to avoid seeing, as he had before, himself; rather, the world; and on each step the world offered the temptation to choose anew, choices dating from the dawn of time, but always in the same, if transfigured, place: this land, land of Vespers, Spain, Terra Nostra.

Terra Nostra - pg. 253

Brother Julian remembered his lost friend, the Chronicler; he would have liked at this moment to say to him: "Let others write the history of events that are apparent: the battles and the treaties, the hereditary conflicts, the amassing and dispersion of authority, the struggles among the estates, the territorial ambition that continues to link us to animality; you, the friend of fables, you must write the history of the passions, without which the history of money, labor, and power is incomprehensible."

The Spanish Civil War - pg. 83

The noise died as Unamuno stood up slowly. His quiet voice was an
impressive contrast.


All of you are hanging on my words. You all know me and are aware
that I am unable to remain silent. At times to be silent is to lie. For
silence can be interpreted as acquiescence. I want to comment on
the speech, to give it that name, of General Millan Astray, who is
here among us. Let us waive the personal affront implied in the sudden
outburst of vituperation against the Basques and Catalans. I was
myself, of course, born in Bilabo. The bishop, whether he likes it or
not, is a Catalan from Barcelona.

The bishop of Salamanca seemed discomforted at the public reminder
of his birth, which was almost in itself an implication of disloyalty to the
Nationalist crusade. Everyone stood in numbed silence as Unamuno
went on:


Just now I heard a necrophilous and senseless cry: 'Lond live death'.
And I, who have spent my life shaping paradoxes must tell you as an
expert authority, that this outlandish paradox is repellent to me. General Millan Astray is a cripple. Let it be said without any slighting undertone. He is a war invalid. So was Cervantes. Unfortunately there are all too many cripples in Spain now. And soon there will be even more of them if God does not come to our aid. It pains me to think that General Millan Astray should dictate the pattern of mass psychology. A cripple who lacks the greatness of Cervantes is wont to seek ominous relief in causing mutilation around him. General Millan Astray would like to create Spain anew, a negative creation in his own image and likeness, for that reason he wishes to see Spain crippled as he unwittingly made clear.


The general was unable to contain his almost inarticulate fuury any longer. He could only scream 'Muerta la inteligencia. Viva la Muerte!' ('Death to intellectuals! Long live death!'). The Falangists took up his cry and army officers took out their pistols. Apparently, the general's bodyguard even levelled his submachine-gun at Unamuno's head, but this did not deter Unamuno from crying defiance.


This is the temple of the intellet, and I am its high priest. It is you
who profane its sacred precincts. You will win, because you have more
than enough brute force. But you will not convince. For to persuade
you would need what you lack: reason and right in your struggle. I
consider it futile to exhort you to think of Spain.

Herzog - pg. 286

A quixote imitated great models. What models did he imitate? A quixote was a Christian, and Moses E. Herzog was no Christian. This was the post-quixotic, post-Copernican U.S.A, where a mind freely poised in space might discover relationships utterly unsuspected by a seventeenth-century man sealed in his smaller universe.

Berlin Alexanderplatz - pg. 532

He lay beneath the auto, that was like it is now, there's a mill there, a quarry, it goes on pouring over me, but I'll hold fast, no matter how I hold on, it's no use, it wants to smash me to pieces, even if I am an iron girder, it wants to break me to pieces.
Franz murmurs though his teeth: " Something's coming." "What's coming?" What mill is this, revolving wheels, a windmill, a watermill? "Watch out, Franz, they are looking for you." So they say I killed her, me, he trembles again, his face is laughing again,...

Don Quixote - pg. 737

They say that in the actual original of this history, one reads that when Cide Hamete came to write this chapter, his interpreter did not translate what he had written, which was a kind of complaint that the Moor had concerning himself for becoming involved in a history as dry and limited as this one, for it seemed to him he always had to talk of Don Quixote and Sancho, not daring to wander into other digressions and episodes that were more serious and more entertaining; and he said that to have his mind, his hand, and his pen always fixed on writing about a single subject and speaking through the mouths of so few persons was an insupportable hardship whose outcome did not redound to the benefit of the author; in order to circumvent this difficulty, in the first part he had used the device of some novels, such as The Man Who Was Recklessly Curious and The Captive's Captain, which are, in a sense, separate from the history, although the other matters recounted there are events that occurred to Don Quixote himself, which he could not fail to write down. He also thought, as he says, that many readers, carried away by the attention demanded by the deeds of Don Quixote, would pay none at all to the novels, and pass them over entirely or read them with haste or with annoyance, not realizing the elegance and invention they contain, which would be readily apparent if they come to light on their own, not depending on the madness of Don Quixote or the foolishness of Sancho.

Don Quixote - pg. 729

"They can dress me," said Sancho, "however they want; no matter what clothes I wear I'll still be Sancho Panza."

Don Quixote - pg. 713

Regarding matters that concern and pertain to this adventure and its memorable history

Really and truly, all those who enjoy histories like this one ought to show their gratitude to Cide Hamete, its first author, for his care in telling us its smallest details and clearly bringing everything, no matter how trivial, to light. He depicts thoughts, reveals imaginations, responds to tacit questions, clarifies doubts, resolves arguments; in short, he expresses the smallest points that curiosity might ever desire to know. O celebrated author! O fortunate Don Quixote! O famous Dulcinea! O comical Sancho Panza! Together and separately may you live an infinite number of years, bringing pleasure and widespread diversion to the living.

Don Quixote - pg. 672

"... I contemplate her in the manner proper to a lady who possesses the qualities that can make her famous throughout the world, to wit: she is beautiful without blemish, serious without arrogance, amorous but modest, grateful because she is courteous, courteous because she is well-bred, and, finally, noble because of her lineage, for when coupled with good blood, beauty shines and excels to a greater degree of perfection than in beautiful women of humble birth."

Don Quixote - pg. 636

Cide Hamete, the chronicler of this great history, begins this chapter with the words I swear as a Catholic Christian ..., to which his translator says that Cide Hamete swearing as a Catholic Christian when he was a Moor, which he undoubtedly was, meant only that just as the Catholic Christian, when he swears, swears or should swear the truth, and tell the truth in everything he says, so too he was telling the truth, as if he were sweraing as a Catholic Christian, when he wrote about Don Quixote, especially when he told who Master Pedro was, as well as the soothsaying monkey whho had amazed all those towns and villages with his divinations.

Don Quixote - pg. 604

"...In truth, now I realize that all the pleasures of this life pass like shadows and dreams, or wither like the flowers in the field. O unfortunate Montesinos! O gravely wounded Durandarte! O luckless Belerma! O weeping Guadiana, and you unhappy daughters of Ruidera, who show in your waters the numbers of tears shed by your beautiful eyes!"

[Chasm story in The Savage Detectives in which Ulises Lima fell inside the cave]

Don Quixote - pg. 582

"O thou, more fortunate than all those who live on the face of the earth, for thou dost not envy nor art thoou envied, and thou sleepest with a tranquil spirit, and thou art not pursued by enchanters, nor art thou alarmed by enchantments! Thou sleepest, I say it again and shall say it a hundred times more, without jealousy of thy lady keeping thee continually awake, nor thoughts of how to pay the debts thou owest, nor what thou must do to feed thyself and thy small, anguished family for another day. Ambition doth not disturb thee, nor doth the vain pomp of the world trouble thee, for the limits of thy desires extendeth not beyond caring for thy donkey; thou hast placed care for thine own person on my shoulders, a weight and a burden that nature and custom hath given to masters. The servant sleepeth, and the master standeth watch, thinking of how he may sustain him, and improve him, and grant him favors. The anguish of seeing the sky turning to bronze and not giving succor to the earth with needed dew doth not afflict the servant but the master, who must sustain in barrenness and hunger the one who served in fertiliy and plenty."

Don Quixote addressing to Sancho Pannza who is sleeping

Don Quixote - pg. 553

"...I left my home, mortgaged my estate, left behind my comfort, and threw myself into the arms of Fortune so that she may carry me wherever she chooses. I have desired to revive a long-dead knight errantry, and for many days, stumbling here, falling there, dropping down in one place and standing up in another, I have fulfilled a good part of my desire, helping widows, protecting maidens,, favoring married women, orphans, and wards, which is the proper and natural work of knights errant; because of my many worthy Christians deeds, I have deserved to be published in almost all or most of the nations in the world. Thirty thousand copies of my history have been printed, and thirty thousand thousand times more are on their way to being printed if heaven does not intervene. Briefly then, to summarize everything in a few words, or in only one, I say that I am Don Quixote of La Mancha, also known as the Knight of the Sorrowful Face, and although praising oneself is vile, I am obliged perhaps to sing my own praises, which is understandable since there is no one present to sing my own praises, which is understandable since there is no one present to do it for me; and so, Senor, neither this horse nor this lance, this shield nor this squire, nor all of my armor, nor my sallow face and extreme thinness: none of this should surprise you now, for I have told you who I am and the profession I follow."

Don Quixote - pg. 543

By this time a thousand different kinds of brightly colored birds began to warble in the trees, and with their varied and joyous songs they seemed to welcome and greet the new dawn, who, through the doors and balconies of the Orient, was revealing the beauty of her face and shaking from her hair an infinite number of liquid pearls whose gentle liquor bathed the plants that seemed, in turn, to send forth buds and rain down tiny white seed pearls; the willows dropped their sweet-tasting manna, the fountains laughed, the streams murmured, the woods rejoiced, and the meadows flourished with her arrival.

Don Quixote - pg. 510

"We have come to the church, Sancho."

Don Quixote - pg. 479

the most perceptive character in a play is the fool, because the man who wishes to seem simple cannot possibly be a simpleton.

Don Quixote - pg. 455

The wounds on a soldier's face and bosom are stars that guide others to the heaven of honor and the desire to win glory, and it should be noted that one writes not with gray hair but with the understanding, which generally improves with the years.

Don Quixote - pg. 437

One curses her and calls her unpredictable, inconstant, and immodest, another condemns her as forward and flighty; one absolves and pardons her, another judges and censures her; one celebrates her beauty, another denounces her nature; in short, all despise her, and all adore her, and the madness goes so far that there are some who complain of her disdain but never spoke to her, and some even lament their fate and feel the raging disease of jealousy though she never gave anyone reason to feel jealousy because, as I have said, her sin was discovered before her desire. There is no hollow rock, no bank of a stream, no shade of a tree, that is not occupied by a shepherd telling his misfortunes to the air; the echoes repeat the name of Leandra wherever it can be sounded; the mountains ring with the name of Leandra, the streams murmur Leandra, and Leandra has us all bewitched and enchanted, hoping without hope and fearing without knowing what it is we fear.

Don Quixote - pg. 430

For myself, I can say that since I became a knight errant I have been valiant, well-mannered, liberal, polite, generous, courteous, bold, gentle, patient, long-suffering in labors, imprisonments, and enchantments, and although only a short while ago I saw myself locked in a cage like a madman, I think that with the valor of my arm, and heaven favoring me, and fortune not opposing me, in a few days I shall find myself the king of some kingdom where I can display the gratitude and liberality of my heart.

Don Quixote - pg. 412

Fictional tales must engage the minds of those who read them, and by restraining exaggeration and moderating impossibility, they enthrall the spirit and thereby astonish, captivate, delight, and entertain, allowing wonder and joy to move together at the same pace; none of these things can be accomplished by fleeing verisimilitude and mimesis, which together constitute perfection in writing.