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Contents of Part 4
2.2.4. The Phaedrus, and
the Symposium
2.2.5. The Evidence so Far
References for part 4
Let us pursue another issue raised by the above sutra: the Buddha talks
of the body "activated by thoughts that come and go": this is
a shorthand reference to the Buddhist attitude to thought, that it is in
itself the great obstacle. (In Zen this doctrine becomes 'no-mind'.) Granted
that we should not make this a simplistic either/or issue regarding meditation
and cogitation, let us return to the Phaedo to a passage where the
same issue is at stake:
'Don't you think that the person who is likely
to succeed in the attempt most perfectly is the one who approaches each
object, as far as possible, with the unaided intellect, without taking
account of any sense of sight in his thinking, or dragging in any other
sense into his reckoning the man who pursues the truth by applying his
pure and unadulterated thought to the pure and unadulterated object, cutting
himself off as much as possible from his eyes and ears and virtually all
the rest of his body as an impediment which by its presence prevents the
soul from attaining the truth and clear thinking? Is not this the person,
Simmias, who will reach the goal of reality, if anybody can?' [47]
We have in this passage 'intellect', 'thinking', 'reckoning', 'pure and
unadulterated thought' and finally 'clear thinking'. Socrates is reiterating
the need to cut oneself of from the senses (one of the Buddhist metaphors
for this makes the comparison with a turtle withdrawing its limbs), but
can we really make a case for meditation ('no mind') here against a form
of cogitation? In particular as he now talks of 'each object' as if we were
now to investigate the truth about a range of objects (or perhaps propositions)
rather than attaining to the (single) Truth? This passage probably epitomises
our difficulties with Socrates, from the perspective of mysticism. However,
two things should be born in mind. Firstly the translation of the ancient
Greek words may not be accurate in this context, and of course there
is the possibility of transcription errors over the two and a half thousand
years since Plato wrote his dialogues. Secondly, if we are to withdraw from
the senses and the body, what kind of 'objects' can we encounter? The trite
answer to this of course is Plato's famous 'forms'; however, we cannot necessarily
understand the forms to be in the plural, despite the use of the plural
noun. There are sufficient passages in Plato to suggest that they can be
subsumed into a single form, that of the 'good', but this becomes nothing
more than a vague philosophical ultimate.
If one attempts an explanation independent of the 'forms', then various,
similarly unsatisfactory, possibilities arise. If one withdraws from the
conventional five senses of sight, sound, smell, taste, and touch then one
is left with thoughts and feelings. The Buddha proposed that 'mind' was
in fact a sixth sense with thoughts (he was not clear about feelings) as
the objects appropriate to it like sights were to the sense of sight. (I
have long suggested that the 'heart' be the seventh sense with feelings
as the objects appropriate to it, but I have found no support in the literature
for this position.) For the Buddha it was clear that withdrawal from the
senses meant also withdrawal from thought, and that meditation, if it had
an object at all, was on emptiness. If Socrates means us to withdraw only
from the five senses, then clearly one could find a myriad of objects for
his recollection: the contents of his thoughts. But, and this is the crux:
all thoughts derive originally from the senses. Surely he cannot
dismiss the senses on the one hand, and yet invite us to cogitate ad
nauseam on our memories, derived from those very senses?
Socrates continues from the previous extract by returning to the singular:
"So long as we keep to the body and our soul is contaminated with this
imperfection, there is no chance of our ever attaining satisfactorily to
our object, which we assert to be Truth." Whether the capitalisation
of truth is a vagary of the translation I don't know, but Plato scholars
do point out that Plato is rather vague on all these technical terms. It
may well be, therefore, that the rather crucial difference (to us) between
the singular and plural may not be resolved, and that we shall have to rely
on the cumulative weight of evidence to answer our main question. Socrates,
in the immediately subsequent passage, also confides the following: "It
seems, to judge from the argument, that the wisdom which we desire and upon
which we profess to have set our hearts will be attainable only when we
are dead, and not in our lifetime." This is reminiscent of the Manichean
and Gnostic tradition, also known as radical dualism, where all matter is
regarded as corrupt, and liberation can only take place on death (of the
body). The Buddhists on the other hand regard liberation as possible while
in the body, though there is the sense of a more final liberation at death.
Much of the rest of the Phaedo is spent on discussion about reincarnation
and immortality, but before dealing with this I would like to quote a passage
that helps complete our profile of a jnani.
'Well, surely we can see now that the soul
works in just the opposite way. It directs all the elements of which it
is said to consist, opposing them in almost everything all through life,
and exercising every form of control; sometimes by severe and unpleasant
methods like those of physical training and medicine, and sometimes by
milder ones; sometimes scolding, sometimes encouraging; and conversing
with the desires and passions and fears as though it were quite separate
and distinct from them.' [48]
This is a reminder that the development of the will is important in jnani.
Let us look now at how reincarnation is dealt with in the Phaedo.
In itself, a belief in reincarnation itself is little indication as to mysticism:
millions if not billions of people in the Orient formally ascribe to religious
systems predicated on reincarnation, and with which they probably have little
or no engagement. Many occultists in the West also hold beliefs in
reincarnation, and in some instances (as with occult 'scientists' Rudolf
Steiner and Papus) it is central to their teachings. It is commonly held
that Pythagoras also believed in reincarnation. I would suggest, however,
that reincarnation is only of significance to the mystic if (a) they personally
recall previous incarnations, and (b) this has an impact on their orientation
to the eternal within them. The sutra from the Dhammapada above gives
a clear indication that for the Buddha both these aspects are true: he remembers
former lives, and as a result has come to know the 'house-builder' (the
causes of incarnation). Let us look at a passages in the Phaedo regarding
reincarnation:
Because every pleasure or pain has a sort of
rivet with which it fastens the soul to the body and pins it down and makes
it corporeal, accepting as true whatever the body certifies. The result
of agreeing with the body and finding pleasure in the same things is, I
imagine, that it cannot help becoming like it in character and training,
so that it can never get clean away to the unseen world, but is always
saturated with the body when it sets out [i.e. at death], and so soon falls
back again into another body, where it takes root and grows. Consequently
it is excluded from all fellowship with the pure and uniform and divine.
[49]
Taken with the many other references to reincarnation in Plato, we learn
of a conventional idea (in comparison with the Buddhist and Hindu systems
at least) of reincarnation: the soul departs from the body at death and
'takes root and grows' in another body soon after, if 'contaminated'
by the rivets of pleasures or pains. Do we have here the 'house-builder'
of the Buddha? In all likelihood yes, because the Buddha's account stresses
desire and the 'karma' engendered by it as the causes of incarnation. In
fact the Socratic/Platonic view of reincarnation that we gather from the
dialogues differs only in these respects from the Oriental view: (a) there
is no developed concept of 'karma', though it is present in a nascent form;
(b) reincarnation is seen as a 'fall', which is not the same as the Hindu
concept of ages (where we have degenerated from a golden age to the
present Kali Yuga). In the Timaeus the soul is created in a kind
of mixing-bowl and placed on a star; the first incarnation (as a man, not
a woman as that would be a form of punishment) tests the soul, and if found
wanting it degenerates in sequence to woman, higher animal, and lower animal.
[50]
This account is not to be taken too seriously I think, as it is part of
a longer and speculative cosmogeny (though it is similar to that in the
Gnostic tradition). The idea of incarnation as a progressive fall
is found in a slightly different form in Rudolf Steiner: he even speaks
of the melancholy of Adam and the progressive materialisation of the spirit.
What evidence however does the treatment of reincarnation in the Platonic
dialogues give us for the status of Socrates as mystic? Only this, I would
suggest: that it was part of what gave Socrates his equanimity and dignity
in the face of death. We have no direct evidence however that his relation
to reincarnation fulfilled the conditions above, that he remembered past
lives and from the memories (as opposed to the theory) came to his position
regarding death and incarnation. In fact the remaining discussion in the
Phaedo is concerned with how one reaches the higher knowledge by
a form of recollection, and, it is logically a recollection of knowledge
gained while disincarnate and hence does not require a continuous
cycle of rebirths. Socrates says: "The theory that our soul exists
even before it enters the body surely stands or falls with the soul's possession
of the ultimate standard of reality; a view which I have, to the best of
my belief, fully and rightly accepted." [51] Socrates is insistent in many
of the dialogues that this kind of knowledge (unlike that of the craftsmen
or artisans) is a recollection, but (I would argue) this cannot be
from a previous embodiment because of the infinite regress that this implies.
Hence reincarnation per se is not vital to his teachings.
The Phaedo finishes with perhaps the most moving of all scenes from
Plato: an account of Socrates' last moments. Crito asks how they shall bury
him.
He [Socrates] laughed gently as he spoke, and
turning to us went on: 'I can't persuade Crito that I am this Socrates
here who is talking to you now and marshalling all the arguments; he thinks
that I am the one whom he will see presently lying dead; and he asks how
he is to bury me! [52]
Socrates is reminding us of one of the profoundest messages of the mystics:
one is not one's body. Yes, the physical body is about to die; as a composite
thing (to use a terminology that Socrates introduces earlier in the Phaedo)
it must disintegrate at some point, but the part of Socrates that is not
composite (his soul) cannot disintegrate nor die. The calmness, even joyfulness
of Socrates' acceptance of the hemlock, and his general demeanour, bring
even the remaining brave souls to tears the jailer, finding Socrates to
be 'the noblest and gentlest and bravest of all the men that have ever come
here,' and Phaedo and Appolodorus. Socrates chides them that he had sent
the women away to avoid exactly this, takes the hemlock, and dies.
2.2.4. The Phaedrus,
and the Symposium
If the Phaedo gives us a base from which
to draw a recognisable portrait of a jnani mystic, then the Phaedrus
and the Symposium add the love-element that must lurk close to the
surface (as discussed above). Quite early in the Phaedrus we have
a confirmation that for Socrates his mysticism is an inquiry:
Now I have no time for such work, and the reason
is, my friend, that I've not yet succeeded in obeying the Delphic injunction
to 'know myself,' and it seems to me absurd to consider problems about
other [mythical] beings while I am still in ignorance about my own nature.
So I let these things alone and acquiesce in the popular attitude towards
them; as I've already said I make myself rather than them the object of
my investigations, and I try to discover whether I am a more complicated
and puffed-up sort of animal than Typho [father of the winds] or whether
I am a gentler and simpler creature, endowed by heaven with a nature altogether
less typhonic. [53]
This passage is preceded by a discussion of legend, and it is this 'work'
that Socrates has no time for. At the start of the Euthyphro we have
a similar admission by Socrates that he is not that interested in stories
about civil war amongst the gods and other myths and legends; he ponders
on it:
Do you thing that is the reason why I am being
called to trial, Euthyphro, because when I hear anyone telling stories
like these about the gods I somehow find it difficult to accept them? [54]
The Phaedrus complicates our sketch of the jnani because it
suggests that Socrates is in favour of a kind of divine possession or madness,
not just as a basis for the arts, but for love. In the opening section Socrates
tells Phaedrus that the wooded river-bank outside the city that they have
chosen for their conversation seems full of spirits, "so do not be
surprised if, as my speech goes on, the nymphs take possession of me."
[55] The speeches
that follow are about love, and in so far as they are about the love between
two human beings they are not relevant to our inquiry. However, in the later
discussion on possession and madness Socrates hints that he is interested
in its broader effects:
If it were true without qualification that
madness is an evil, that would be all very well, but in fact madness, provided
it comes as the gift of heaven, is the channel by which we receive the
greatest blessings. Take the prophetess at Delphi and the priestesses at
Dodona, for example, and consider all the benefits which individuals and
states in Greece have received from them when they were in a state of frenzy,
though their usefulness in their sober senses amounts to little or nothing.
[56]
(Note that a modern equivalent is the trance state in which the radio prophet
Edgar Cacey gave his 'readings'; he only learned about what he had said
afterwards through tape-recordings. [57] ) Socrates also says that "this type of madness
is the greatest benefit that heaven can confer on us." [58] Socrates
then goes on to show that the soul is uncreated and immortal, and then makes
a long detour with metaphors of charioteer and horses, and the wings of
the soul. Reincarnation (i.e. being incarnated again) is the losing of the
'wings of the soul' through ignorance, but "These souls, if they choose
the life of the philosopher three times successively, regain their wings
in the third period of a thousand years, and in the three-thousandth year
win their release." [59] This contradicts the passage in the Phaedo
quoted earlier that indicates reincarnation takes place 'soon'. This issue
is not important however: across the world's literature on reincarnation
the time intervals posited between incarnations varies tremendously. Socrates
elaborates on the relationship between the 'wings' and a fourth type of
madness:
This then is the fourth type of madness, which
befalls when a man, reminded by the sight of beauty on earth of the true
beauty, grows his wings and endeavours to fly upward, but in vain, exposing
himself to the reproach of insanity because like a bird he fixes his gaze
on the heights to the neglect of things below; and the conclusion to which
our whole discourse points is that in itself and in its origin this is
the best of all forms of divine possession, both for the subject himself
and for his associate, and it is when he is touched with this madness that
the man whose love is aroused by beauty in others is called a lover. [60]
This passage is useful for pointing up the confusion of interpretation that
is possible: is Socrates talking about a divine love that reaches to the
Union of the bhakti mystics, or is he talking about a homosexual
or homoerotic love between 'subject and associate'? Either way it is in
the context of two men, and we have on the one hand a master-disciple spiritual
relationship and on the other an older-younger homosexual one. In the more
normal context of philosophy it is usually assumed in the West that the
relationship was a homosexual one (though possibly not consummated) between
an older man teaching philosophy or wisdom to a younger one. In the context
of mysticism we have parallels with at least three other cases where the
same question has been asked but the evidence is strongly in favour of the
master-disciple relationship: between Rumi and Shamsi Tabriz, between Ramakrishna
and his disciples, and between Whitman and his male companions (e.g. Peter
Doyle). In Iran today it is a common belief that Tabriz was Rumi's homosexual
lover; a recent volume has been entirely devoted to Ramakrishna's possible
homosexuality with his disciples [61] , and Whitman's alleged homosexuality is a key biographical
question for all Whitman scholars. We live in a culture where it is assumed
that male signs of affection (Socrates fondled Phaedo's curls for example,
regretting that they would be shorn after his execution as a sign of mourning
[62])
indicate homosexuality, and that to sleep with another man is proof. But
we will see that Alcibiades slept with Socrates as if with a 'father or
older brother', and we know that Whitman slept with the naturalist John
Burroughs, 'by no stretch of imagination his sexual lover.' [63] This topic
is worthy I think of a whole investigation, but for now let us just note
that modern interpretations of behaviour may lead to the wrong conclusions
in this area.
Where is Socrates leading us with his possession, madness and beauty in
the Phaedrus? A form of madness befalls a man who sees beauty; this
leads to his 'wings'; the following passage then sums up Socrates' views:
It is impossible for a soul that has never
seen the truth to enter into our human shape; it takes a man to understand
by the use of universals, and to collect out of the multiplicity of sense-impressions
a unity arrived at by a process of reason. Such a process is simply the
recollection of the things which our soul once perceived when it took its
journey with a god, looking down from above on the things to which we now
ascribe reality and gazing upwards towards what is truly real. That is
why it is right that the soul of the philosopher alone should regain its
wings; for it is always dwelling in memory as best it may upon those things
which a god owes his divinity to dwelling upon. It is only by the right
use of such aids to recollection, which form a continual initiation into
the perfect mystic vision that a man can become perfect in the true sense
of the word. Because he stands apart from the common objects of human ambition
and applies himself to the divine, he is reproached by most men for being
out of his wits; they do not realize that he is in fact possessed by a
god. [64]
It may be a coincidence that the translator has used the word 'mystic' in
this passage, but it stands anyhow alongside any classical mystical text.
The introduction into our picture of Socrates of the phenomenon of possession
is of interest.
Let us turn now to the Symposium (symposium means a 'drinking-together',
or drinks party). It is interesting because it reinforces some of the love-aspects
of Socrates' possible mysticism, and also because it starts with Socrates
getting lost on his way to the party. He is in one of his 'fits of abstraction'
(discussed earlier), and this event is reinforced by Alcibiades' later description
of a full day's such abstraction, so remarkable as to cause some Ionians
to take their bedding out to observe him in the cool of the evening. [65] The
bulk of the Symposium is taken up with speeches on the subject of
love, again to be seen in the context of either a homosexual love, or that
between master and disciple. Unusually, for Socrates, he calls on the authority
of another in his own speech on love; this other is the priestess Diotima.
Her most important statement in the context of mysticism is that love is
"the desire for the perpetual possession of the good." [66] The
homosexual interpretation would be one of continuously possessing (in the
carnal sense) young men, while the mystical interpretation would be to arrive
at the eternal within one. Perhaps the most useful testimony for us in the
Symposium is that of Alcibiades. He is a young and handsome man who
is later to become a ruthless tyrant, and is often cited as a evidence against
Socrates in his trial; there are several mentions in the Platonic Dialogues
of Socrates 'chasing after him'. Alcibiades own (rueful) evidence suggests
the opposite: that he sought Socrates' physical love, and received only
a lecture in philosophy: "I swear by all the gods in heaven that for
anything that had happened between us when I got up after sleeping with
Socrates, I might have been sleeping with my father or elder brother. ...
On the one hand I realized that I had been slighted, but on the other I
felt a reverence for Socrates' character, his self-control and courage;
I had met a man whose like for wisdom and fortitude I could never have expected
to encounter." [67] Alcibiades tells us also: "Whenever I listen
to him my heart beats faster than if I were in a religious frenzy, and tears
run down my face, and I observe that numbers of other people have the same
experience." [68] Socrates has a shaming effect on him:
He is the only person in whose presence I experienced
a sensation of which I might be thought incapable, a sensation of shame;
he, and he alone, positively makes me ashamed of myself. ... The Socrates
whom you see has a tendency to fall in love with good-looking young men,
and is always in their society and in an ecstasy about them. ... , but
once you see beneath the surface you will discover a degree of self-control
of which you can hardly form a notion, gentlemen. Believe me, it makes
no difference to him whether a person is good-looking he despises good
looks to an almost inconceivable extent nor whether he is rich nor whether
he possesses any of the other advantages that rank high in popular esteem;
to him all these things are worthless, and we ourselves of no account,
be sure of that. He spends his whole life pretending and playing with people,
and I doubt whether anyone has ever seen the treasures which are revealed
when he grows serious and exposes what he keeps inside. However, I once
saw them, and found them so divine and precious and beautiful and marvellous
that, to put the matter briefly, I had no choice but to do whatever Socrates
bade me. [69]
Jacob Needleman comments in connection with this passage that "the
impact of Socrates is to produce upon man a specific sort of suffering that
involves seeing oneself against a very high criterion of what man should
be" [70]
. Needleman is influenced in this comment by the teachings of G.I.Gurdjieff,
who often said that the purpose of a Master was to induce this specific
form of suffering in the disciple (he referred to the process of creating
it as 'friction'). The following passage reinforces this impression of Socrates
as spiritual Master (Alcibiades is speaking again):
But our friend here is so extraordinary, both
in his person and in his conversation, that you will never be able to find
anyone remotely resembling him either in antiquity of in the present generation,
unless you go beyond humanity altogether, and have recourse to the images
of Silenus and satyr which I am using myself in this speech. ... Anyone
who sets out to listen to Socrates talking will probably find his conversation
utterly ridiculous at first, it is clothed in such curious words and phrases,
the hide, so to speak of a hectoring satyr. He will talk of pack-asses
and blacksmiths, cobblers and tanners, and appear to express the same ideas
in the same language over and over again, so that any inexperienced or
foolish person is bound to laugh at his way of speaking. But if a man penetrates
within and sees the content of Socrates' talk exposed, he will find that
there is nothing but sound sense inside, and that this talk is almost the
talk of a god, and enshrines countless representations of ideal excellence,
and is of the widest possible application; in fact that it extends over
all the subjects with which a man who means to turn out a gentleman needs
to concern himself. [71]
Alcibiades concludes his speech with another useful clue to Socrates' behaviour,
and the wider problems of homosexual implication discussed earlier: "I
may add that I am not the only sufferer in this way; Charmides the son of
Glaucon and Euthydemus the son of Diocles and many others have had the same
treatment; he has pretended to be in love with them, when in fact he is
himself the beloved rather than the lover." [72] He himself is the beloved
an indication that Socrates as spiritual Master is loved, though as a device
he pretends the opposite (not that the Master's love is not genuine, but
it is not of the familiar sort). Bucke's criteria of attractiveness seems
met in this description of Socrates.
2.2.5. The Evidence
so Far
With the general evidence earlier presented,
and the detailed evidence from the Phaedo, the Phaedrus, and
the Symposium, I believe we have a plausible case that the Socrates
presented by Plato was a mystic, of the jnani type, engaged with
the via negativa (though not by any means in an extreme way) and
generally non-theistic. The love-aspects are there in just the proportion
one might expect in a jnani: absence of these indications would actually
weaken the case for Socrates as a mystic. Furthermore, Socrates appears
as a Master devoted to teaching his disciples, who loved him.
If we step back from this thesis for a moment, we can consider other possibilities.
What of the possibility that it was Plato himself that was the mystic,
and that the image of Socrates we have so far discovered was entirely his
invention, plastered over the bare historic facts of an Athenian trouble-maker
sentenced to death? Or that both were equally mystics? We need to look further
into the Platonic canon to answer these questions.
References for Part 4
[47]
Plato, The Last Days of Socrates, Trans.:
Hugh Tredennick, Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1969, p. 110
[48] Plato,
The Last Days of Socrates, Trans.: Hugh Tredennick, Harmondsworth:
Penguin, 1969, p. 151
[49] Plato,
The Last Days of Socrates, Trans.: Hugh Tredennick, Harmondsworth:
Penguin, 1969, p. 136
[50] Plato,
Timaeus and Critias, Trans.: Desmon Lee, Harmondsworth: Penguin,
1971, p. 58
[51] Plato,
The Last Days of Socrates, Trans.: Hugh Tredennick, Harmondsworth:
Penguin, 1954, p. 148
[52] Plato,
The Last Days of Socrates, Trans.: Hugh Tredennick, Harmondsworth:
Penguin, p. 179
[53] Plato,
Phaedrus and Letters VII and VIII, Trans.: Walter Hamilton, Harmondsworth:
Penguin, 1973, p. 25
[54] Plato,
The Last Days of Socrates, Trans.: Hugh Tredennick, Harmondsworth:
Penguin, 1954, p. 25
[55] Plato,
Phaedrus and Letters VII and VIII, Trans.: Walter Hamilton, Harmondsworth:
Penguin, 1973, p. 38
[56] Plato,
Phaedrus and Letters VII and VIII, Trans.: Walter Hamilton, Harmondsworth:
Penguin, 1973, p. 46
[57] Stearn,
J. Edgar Cayce - The Sleeping Prophet, Bantam Books, New York, Toronto,
London, Sydney, Auckland, 1989
[58] Plato,
Phaedrus and Letters VII and VIII, Trans.: Walter Hamilton, Harmondsworth:
Penguin, 1973, p. 48
[59] Plato,
Phaedrus and Letters VII and VIII, Trans.: Walter Hamilton, Harmondsworth:
Penguin, 1973, p. 54
[60] Plato,
Phaedrus and Letters VII and VIII, Trans.: Walter Hamilton, Harmondsworth:
Penguin, 1973, p. 56
[61] Kripal,
Jeffery, J., Kali's Child: The Mystical and the Erotic in the Life and
Teachings of Ramakrishna, University of Chicago Press, 1995
[62] Plato,
Phaedrus and Letters VII and VIII, Trans.: Walter Hamilton, Harmondsworth:
Penguin, 1973, p. 143
[63] Callow,
Philip, Walt Whitman, From Noon to Starry Night, London: Allison
and Busby, 1992, p. 257
[64] Plato,
Phaedrus and Letters VII and VIII, Trans.: Walter Hamilton, Harmondsworth:
Penguin, 1973, p. 55
[65] Plato,
The Symposium, Trans.: Walter Hamilton, Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1951,
p. 108
[66] Plato,
The Symposium, Trans.: Walter Hamilton, Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1951,
p. 86
[67] Plato,
The Symposium, Trans.: Walter Hamilton, Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1951,
p. 103
[68] Plato,
The Symposium, Trans.: Walter Hamilton, Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1951,
p. 101
[69] Plato,
The Symposium, Trans.: Walter Hamilton, Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1951,
p. 102
[70] Needleman,
Jacob, The Heart of Philosophy, London, Melbourne and Henley, Routledge
and Kegan Paul, 1983, p. 35
[71] Plato,
The Symposium, Trans.: Walter Hamilton, Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1951,
p. 110
[72] Plato,
The Symposium, Trans.: Walter Hamilton, Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1951,
p. 111
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