"In a village in La Mancha, whose name I do not want to remember, there lived for many years a knight, one of those who have a war lance in their arsenal, an old shield, a skinny horse, and a hunting dog. He was about fifty years old. He was a man with a strong build, thin-faced, an early riser, and he had a passionate love for hunting. When he was out of work, he spent his time reading knightly stories, until eventually he became so obsessed with reading them that he spent his nights reading from evening until morning, and his days from morning until evening. And so, the lack of sleep and excessive reading drove his mind to the point of losing his sanity, and he was overcome by the strangest ideas that ever crossed a madman's mind. He thought it was right and beneficial, both for his own glory and for the good of his land, to become a wandering knight; to travel the world, with his horse and weapons, seeking adventures, and to do all the things that he had read about the wandering knights doing; to right all kinds of wrongs, to get involved in so many conflicts and dangers, that by conquering everywhere, he would make his name immortal: Don Quixote de La Mancha!"