Or at least Don Quixote as portrayed by Cervantes, as himself portrayed in the 1970s movie, Man of La Mancha; but what the hell.
We judge each other most harshly, it seems, when one of us takes a stand; when one sets out to defend all that is pure and good, yet others see this as a pointless, futile or even ridiculous exercise.
Perhaps we carry the schoolyard with us all our lives. Perhaps we will always be intent upon conformity and acceptance, and for that far too quick to point and laugh when someone else, innocently or deliberately, stands apart.
Then again, perhaps when life forces us to watch what we don't want to see; when someone else's bravery would be too completely embarrassing for us to contemplate (let alone emulate), perhaps we scurry for emotional cover by vehemently denying that we feel any sympathy at all. Not really laughers, then, but liars. Willing to sacrifice someone else so that we should not be seen as prey.
Is it better to be with or without dreams?
Who is more foolish, the fool, or the fool that mocks him?
I have no idea, or at least the ideas I get seem to change with the weather. Perhaps heroism and idiocy are flip sides of the same coin, with the label decided by history.
THIS goes out to 266k (complete with bad singing and very British accent, God Bless Peter O'Toole!)
"But maddest of all -- to see life as it is, and not as it should be."