"How come [people in favor of war] get to be the hawks? And we get to be the doves? A hawk is a noble bird. A dove. Well, basically it's a pigeon. ...They get to swoop and prey. We get to pace the sidelines, cooing our complaints. Their ideas -- it never matters how visibly dumb they are -- get tried. Ours never do. And when theirs fail miserably, they get to recalibrate and try again. We never get to try once. ...They get hundreds of billions of dollars to play with. We don't get bus fare to Washington. Oh, and then, at about the point when everything they've planned for has gone to hell, they suddenly turn to us and...ask belligerently what the hell we'd do now. What's our plan anyway? And to make matters worse, even though they have a dismal record when it comes to predicting what their plans will do, they don't hesitate to explain to us with complete confidence just what sort of catastrophes our ideas will surely lead to."
This is what it's like to be a liberal in America.
This is what it's like to be a woman anywhere.
This is what it's like to be close enough to the ground to see it clearly, and, for that reason, too far away from the clouds to be heard.
This is what it's like to be so sane you're mad.
Maybe even what it's like to be a prophet.
