One More Thing - Pg 268 : J. C. Audetat, Translator of Don Quixote

   He knew he wasn't a poet anymore. Still, while he didn't know exactly what he wanted to say, he knew exactly how it should sound. He knew the acoustics of his age, he knew the precise echo that greatness made within it, and now, as much as he loved--finally--everything in his life, all he wanted was to hear that sound. He needed that sound to pull him out of where he was now, not because he didn't love where he was now, but because he did, so much, that he needed to find out if he could make a sound that could compete with it.