Socrates “There being, then, three kinds of pleasure, the pleasure of that part of the soul whereby we learn is the sweetest, and the life of the man in whom that part dominates is the most pleasurable.” “How could it be otherwise?” he said. “At any rate the man of intelligence speaks with authority when he commends his own life.” “And to what life and to what pleasure,” I said, “does the judge assign the second place?” “Obviously to that of the warrior and honor-loving type, for it is nearer to the first than is the life of the money-maker.” “And so the last place belongs to the lover of gain, as it seems.” “Surely,” said he.

“That, then, would be two points in succession and two victories for the just man over the unjust. And now for the third in the Olympian fashion to the saviour and to Olympian Zeus—observe that other pleasure than that of the intelligence is not altogether even real or pure, but is a kind of scene-painting, as I seem to have heard from some wise man; and yet this would be the greatest and most decisive overthrow.” “Much the greatest. But what do you mean?” “I shall discover it,” I said,

“if you will answer my questions while I seek.” “Ask, then,” he said. “Tell me, then,” said I, “do we not say that pain is the opposite of pleasure?” “We certainly do.” “And is there not such a thing as a neutral state” “There is.” “Is it not intermediate between them, and in the mean, being a kind of quietude of the soul in these respects? Or is not that your notion of it?” “It is that,” said he. “Do you not recall the things men say in sickness?” “What sort of things?” “Why, that after all there is nothing sweeter than to be well,

though they were not aware that it is the highest pleasure before they were Ill.” “I remember,” he said. “And do you not hear men afflicted with severe pain saying that there is no greater pleasure than the cessation of this suffering?” “I do.” “And you perceive, I presume, many similar conditions in which men while suffering pain praise freedom from pain and relief from that as the highest pleasure, and not positive delight.” “Yes,” he said, “for this in such cases is perhaps what is felt as pleasurable and acceptable—peace.”

“And so,” I said, “when a man’s delight comes to an end, the cessation of pleasure will be painful.” “It may be so,” he said. “What, then,we just now described as the intermediate state between the two—this quietude—will sometimes be both pain and pleasure.” “It seems so” “Is it really possible for that which is neither to become both?” “I think not.” “And further, both pleasure and pain arising in the soul are a kind of motion, are they not?”

“Yes.”

Socrates “And did we not just now see that to feel neither pain nor pleasure is a quietude of the soul and an intermediate state between the two?” “Yes, we did.” “How, then, can it be right to think the absence of pain pleasure, or the absence of joy painful?” “In no way.” “This is not a reality, then, but an illusion,” said I; “in such case the quietude in juxtaposition with the pain appears pleasure, and in juxtaposition with the pleasure pain. And these illusions have no real bearing on the truth of pleasure, but are a kind of jugglery.” “So at any rate our argument signifies,” he said. “Take a look, then,”

Socrates said I, “at pleasures which do not follow on pain, so that you may not haply suppose for the present that it is the nature of pleasure to be a cessation from pain and pain from pleasure.” “Where shall I look,” he said, “and what pleasures do you mean?” “There are many others,” I said, “and especially, if you please to note them, the pleasures connected with smell. For these with no antecedent pain suddenly attain an indescribable intensity, and their cessation leaves no pain after them.” “Most true,” he said. “Let us not believe, then,

Socrates that the riddance of pain is pure pleasure or that of pleasure pain.” “No, we must not.” “Yet, surely,” said I, “the affections that find their way through the body to the soul and are called pleasures are, we may say, the most and the greatest of them, of this type, in some sort releases from pain.?” “Yes, they are.” “And is not this also the character of the anticipatory pleasures and pains that precede them and arise from the expectation of them?” “It is.”

“Do you know, then, what their quality is and what they most resemble?” “What?” he said. “Do you think that there is such a thing in nature as up and down and in the middle?” “I do.” “Do you suppose, then, that anyone who is transported from below to the center would have any other opinion than that he was moving upward? And if he took his stand at the center and looked in the direction from which he had been transported, do you think he would suppose himself to be anywhere but above, never having seen that which is really above?” “No, by Zeus,” he said, “I do not think that such a person would have any other notion.”

“And if he were borne back,” I said, “he would both think himself to be moving downward and would think truly.” “Of course.” “And would not all this happen to him because of his non-acquaintance with the true and real up and down and middle?” “Obviously.”

Socrates “Would it surprise you, then,” said I, “if similarly men without experience of truth and reality hold unsound opinions about many other matters, and are so disposed towards pleasure and pain and the intermediate neutral condition that, when they are moved in the direction of the painful,

Socrates they truly think themselves to be, and really are, in a state of pain, but, when they move from pain to the middle and neutral state, they intensely believe that they are approaching fulfillment and pleasure, and just as if, in ignorance of white, they were comparing grey with black, so, being inexperienced in true pleasure, they are deceived by viewing painlessness in its relation to pain?” “No, by Zeus,” he said, “it would not surprise me, but far rather if it were not so.” “In this way, then, consider it. Are not hunger and thirst and similar states inanitions or emptinesses

Socrates of the bodily habit?” “Surely.” “And is not ignorance and folly in turn a kind of emptiness of the habit of the soul?” “It is indeed.” “And he who partakes of nourishment and he who gets, wisdom fills the void and is filled?” “Of course.” “And which is the truer filling and fulfillment, that of the less or of the more real being?” “Evidently that of the more real.” “And which of the two groups or kinds do you think has a greater part in pure essence, the class of foods, drinks, and relishes and nourishment generally, or the kind of true opinion,

Socrates knowledge and reason, and, in sum, all the things that are more excellent? Form your judgement thus. Which do you think more truly is, that which clings to what is ever like itself and immortal and to the truth, and that which is itself of such a nature and is born in a thing of that nature, or that which clings to what is mortal and never the same and is itself such and is born in such a thing?” “That which cleaves to what is ever the same far surpasses,” he said. “Does the essence of that which never abides the same partake of real essence any more than of knowledge?” “By no means.” “Or of truth and reality?” “Not of that, either.” “And if a thing has less of truth has it not also less of real essence or existence?” “Necessarily.” “And is it not generally true

Socrates that the kinds concerned with the service of the body partake less of truth and reality than those that serve the soul?” “Much less.” “And do you not think that the same holds of the body itself in comparison with the soul?” “I do.” “Then is not that which is fulfilled of what more truly is, and which itself more truly is, more truly filled and satisfied than that which being itself less real is filled with more unreal things?” “Of course.” “If, then, to be filled with what befits nature is pleasure, then that which is more really filled with real things

Socrates would more really and truly cause us to enjoy a true pleasure, while that which partakes of the less truly existent would be less truly and surely filled and would partake of a less trustworthy and less true pleasure.” “Most inevitably,” he said.