A well thought out reply Doug and you hit why we differ in opinion right on
the head. Tilting at windmills is regarded as meaningless folly. The
question is: "Regarded by whom?" To Don Quixote it was not meaningless
folly, but the carrying out of his highest principles. To others it may seem
meaningless. So the question to you is: who decides if one's life is
meaningful and by what standard? I say it is up to the individual. As long
as he does not violate the basic inalienable rights that belong to all
humans, it is the individual's decision and standards that apply to his
life. Only an individual can decide what gives him happiness and meaning.
Look at Goldwater's run for the Presidency. He knew he was going to lose. He
still ran and ran as himself. He lost big time, but he opened the door for
the real Conservative movement (not Bush's "conservatism). Tilting at
windmills?



"DSK" wrote in message
.. .
You could draw an analogy to Cyrano's fight for principles regardless of
the odds, to tilting at windmills but the latter is usually taken to
mean something which is meaningless folly. One of the differences
between Don Quixote and Cyrano is that while it is uncertain whether el
Don is driven mad or avoiding madness by play-acting, while Cyrano is
the ultimate self-actualized personality. His sanity is never in doubt.

So, I appreciate your point Gilligan but don't really agree.

DSK

Gilligan wrote:
The windmills are acknowledged in the death scene as Cyrano sums up his
life:

CYRANO:
Why, I well believe
He dares to mock my nose? Ho! insolent!
(He raises his sword):
What say you? It is useless? Ay, I know
But who fights ever hoping for success?
------------------------Right here and the next line
I fought for lost cause, and for fruitless quest!
You there, who are you!--You are thousands!
Ah!
I know you now, old enemies of mine!
Falsehood!
(He strikes in air with his sword):
Have at you! Ha! and Compromise!
Prejudice, Treachery!. . .
(He strikes):
Surrender, I?
Parley? No, never! You too, Folly,--you?
I know that you will lay me low at last;
Let be! Yet I fall fighting, fighting still!
(He makes passes in the air, and stops, breathless):
You strip from me the laurel and the rose!
Take all! Despite you there is yet one thing
I hold against you all, and when, to-night,
I enter Christ's fair courts, and, lowly bowed,
Sweep with doffed casque the heavens' threshold blue,
One thing is left, that, void of stain or smutch,
I bear away despite you.

(He springs forward, his sword raised; it falls from his hand; he
staggers,
falls back into the arms of Le Bret and Ragueneau.)

ROXANE (bending and kissing his forehead):
'Tis?. . .

CYRANO (opening his eyes, recognizing her, and smiling):
MY PANACHE.


Curtain.