Man of La Mancha: A Musical Play

Too much sanity may be madness — and maddest of all: to see life as it is, and not as it should be!

It is the mission of each true knight... His duty... nay, his privilege! To dream the impossible dream, To fight the unbeatable foe, To bear with unbearable sorrow To run where the brave dare not go; To right the unrightable wrong. To love, pure and chaste, from afar, To try, when your arms are too weary, To reach the unreachable star! This is my Quest to follow that star, No matter how hopeless, no matter how far, To fight for the right Without question or pause, To be willing to march into hell For a heavenly cause! And I know, if I'll only be true To this glorious Quest, That my heart will lie peaceful and calm When I'm laid to my rest. And the world will be better for this, That one man, scorned and covered with scars, Still strove, with his last ounce of courage, To reach the unreachable stars!

I come in a world of iron...to make a world of gold

I have lived nearly fifty years, and I have seen life as it is. Pain, misery, hunger ... cruelty beyond belief. I have heard the singing from taverns and the moans from bundles of filth on the streets. I have been a soldier and seen my comrades fall in battle ... or die more slowly under the lash in Africa. I have held them in my arms at the final moment. These were men who saw life as it is, yet they died despairing. No glory, no gallant last words ... only their eyes filled with confusion, whimpering the question, "Why?" I do not think they asked why they were dying, but why they had lived. When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies? Perhaps to be too practical is madness. To surrender dreams — this may be madness. To seek treasure where there is only trash. Too much sanity may be madness — and maddest of all: to see life as it is, and not as it should be!

One man scorned and covered with scars still strove with his last ounce of courage to reach the unreachable stars; and the world was better for this. -Don Quixote.

Take a deep breath of life and consider how it should be lived. Call nothing thy own except thy soul. Love not what thou art, but only what thou may become. Do not pursue pleasure, for thou may have the misfortune to overtake it. Look always forward; in last year's nest there are no birds this year. Be just to all men. Be courteous to all women. Live in the vision of that one for whom great deeds are done...she that is called Dulcinea.

Facts are the enemy of truth.

God help us—we are both men of La Mancha.

Don Quixote: I hope to add some measure of grace to the world. Aldonza: The world's a dungheap and we are maggots that crawl on it! Don Quixote: My lady knows better in her heart.

There is a remedy for everything but death.

o each his Dulcinea, that he alone can name...to each a secret hiding place where he can find the haunting face to light his secret flame. For with his Dulcinea beside him, so to stand, a man can do quite anything, outfly the bird upon the wing, hold moonlight in his hand. Yet if you build your life on dreams, it's prudent to recall--a man with moonlight in his hand has nothing there at all. There is no Dulcinea, she's made of flame and air, and yet how lovely life would seem if ev'ry man could weave a dream to keep him from despair. To each his Dulcinea...though she's naught but flame and air!

The Duke: This La Mancha—what is it like? The Governor: An empty place. Great wide plains. Prisoner: A desert. The Governor: A wasteland. The Duke: Which apparently grows lunatics. Cervantes: I would say, rather...men of illusion. The Duke: Much the same. Why are you poets so fascinated with madmen? Cervantes: I suppose...we have much in common. The Duke: You both turn your backs on life. Cervantes: We both select from life what pleases us.