Be Brief, For No Talk Can Please

Comparisons Are Odious.

The Pen Is The Tongue Of The Mind.

Maybe The Greatest Madness Is To See Life As It Is Rather Than What It Could Be.

The Virtuous Woman Must Be Treated Like A Relic - Adored, But Not Handled; She Should Be Guarded And Prized, Like A Fine Flower-garden, The Beauty And Fragrance Of Which The Owner Allows Others To Enjoy Only At A Distance, And Through Iron Walls.

Reading Don Quixote Can Be Compared To An Indefinite Visit From Your Most Impossible Senior Relative, With All His Pranks, Dirty Habits, Unstoppable Reminiscences, And Terrible Cronies. When The Experience Is Over, And The Old Boy Checks Out At Last (on Page 846 - The Prose Wedged Tight, With No Breaks For Dialogue), You Will Shed Tears All Right; Not Tears Of Relief Or Regret But Tears Of Pride. You Made It, Despite All That 'don Quixote' Could Do.