"The unreality of being in the hands of this child! This loathsome kid with a head full of fantasies about 'the working class'! This tiny being who took up not even as much space in the car as the Levov sheepdog, pretending that she was striding on the world stage! This utterly insignificant pebble! What was the whole sick enterprise other than angry, infantile egoism thinly disguised as identification with the oppressed? Her weighty responsibility to the workers of the world! Egoistic pathology bristled out of her like the hair that nuttily proclaimed, 'I go wherever I want, as far as I want - all that matters is what I want!' Yes, the nonsensical hair constituted half of their revolutionary ideology, about as sound a justification for her actions as the other half - the exaggerated jargon about changing the world. She was twenty-two years old, no more than five feet tall, and off on a reckless adventure with a very potent thing way beyond her comprehension called power. Not the least need of thought. Thought just paled away beside their ignorance. They were omniscient without even thinking."
Philip Roth - American Pastoral