A revolution is like a great love affair. In the beginning she is a temptress, a holy cause, the Virgin Mary,
… but every love affair has a terrible enemy: time.
We see the Revolution from the barricades. Never pure, never saintly, never perfect.
And we are always running after the next revolution like foolish men trying to find another lover, another cause. Passion, but no compassion. But without love, without a purpose or a cause, we are… nothing. We stay on the barricades because we want to believe that the cause is the one, and we can finally leave the barricade, desert the revolution, because we realized that we became disillusioned. Then we come back because we are lost. We know if we stay, we will die on the barricades but we stay anyway because we are committed to the idea of the revolution.
To be a revolutionary, one must be a lover, a romantic and a bit crazy, and a believer in love.