The greatest inconvenience associated with my endeavor is that here one sees
men who resemble us almost in nothing, who seem to us to be outside of
nature—perhaps as much because we are in that state ourselves as because they
are in fact there. Their crimes inspire in us horror. Sometimes their virtues
themselves make us shiver. Because we are weak and pusillanimous in good
times and in bad, everything that bears a certain character of force and vigor
seems to us impossible. The incredulity that we parade is the work of our
cowardice rather than that of our reason.
—Jean-Jacques Rousseau