“He was the first man I had ever met whom I thought not just handsome but beautiful. With his curly, reddish beard, he looked like a cross between a faun and a Sunday school print of Jesus. . . . In Che, one felt a desire to heal and pity for suffering. . . . It was out of love, like the perfect knight of medieval romance, that he had set out to combat with the powers of the world. . . . In a sense he was, like some early saint, taking refuge in the desert. Only there could the purity of the faith be safeguarded.”