If you cannot make sense of Rapaire, you can't make sense out of anyone or anything.

Just consider poor Rapaire, sitting alone in his mountain fastness, working to keep the flames of Knowledge, Literacy, Art, yea, even Reason itself! burning brightly for all people everywhere. But what reward does he reap? Only to be scorned, insulted, driven from pillar to post, by the minions of the Forces of Ignorance, Gluttony, Lust, Pride, Greed, Envy, Famine, Death, Plague, War, and Perineal Pruritus.

None the less, he soldiers on, his Duty clear, his Sword of Enlightenment blazing white-hot against the encroaching Darkness. And for what? Only a pittance, a moldy crust and a flagon of stagnant water on even-numbered days, and then he must endure the slights of those who should be supporting poor Rapaire's work.