In Rousseau's "Judgment of Saint-Pierre's Two Political Works," there were these words:
I opened books discussing rights and morality, listened to scholars and jurists, and was deeply moved by their eloquent words. I lamented nature's sufferings, praised the justice and peace established by social order, wished for social institutions to remain forever so good, and rejoiced that I had now become a citizen, with a profound understanding of my duties and happiness. I closed the book, walked out of the classroom, and looked at the scenes around me. I found unfortunate people groaning beneath iron shackles, humanity bullied by a handful of oppressors; great masses starving and freezing, suffering beyond endurance, while the rich drank their blood and tears with easy consciences; armed strongmen suppressing the weak under the authority of terrible laws.
All of this proceeded smoothly, without meeting any resistance. Such a tranquil state was truly like Ulysses's companions shut inside the Cyclops's cave, waiting one by one to be eaten. Everyone sighed and groaned, unable to say a word. Let us cover these dreadful scenes with a thick cloth. I raised my head and looked into the distance, where gunpowder smoke filled the air, flames soared into the sky, farmland lay desolate, and cities had been looted clean. Madmen, where would you put these unfortunate people? I heard a chorus of shrill cries! Chaos was everywhere! Shouts were everywhere! Before my eyes was a scene of slaughter: tens of thousands were massacred, the dying groaned beneath horses' hooves, blood flowed into rivers everywhere, and corpses littered the ground.
The machinery of peace had produced such results! A tide of both sorrow and indignation rose within me.
Barbaric philosophers, go preach your books on the battlefield!
Faced with such tragic scenes, how could our hearts not break?
"Stop."