symposium   

as I have described."

I said, "O thou stranger woman, thou sayest well; but, assuming Love

to be such as you say, what is the use of him to men?" "That,

Socrates," she replied, "I will attempt to unfold: of his nature and

birth I have already spoken; and you acknowledge that love is of the

beautiful. But some one will say: Of the beautiful in what, Socrates

and Diotima?-or rather let me put the question more dearly, and ask:

When a man loves the beautiful, what does he desire?" I answered her

"That the beautiful may be his." "Still," she said, "the answer

suggests a further question: What is given by the possession of

beauty?" "To what you have asked," I replied, "I have no answer

ready." "Then," she said, "Let me put the word 'good' in the place

of the beautiful, and repeat the question once more: If he who loves

good, what is it then that he loves? "The possession of the good," I

said. "And what does he gain who possesses the good?" "Happiness," I

replied; "there is less difficulty in answering that question." "Yes,"

she said, "the happy are made happy by the acquisition of good things.

Nor is there any need to ask why a man desires happiness; the answer

is already final." "You are right." I said. "And is this wish and this

desire common to all? and do all men always desire their own good,

or only some men?-what say you?" "All men," I replied; "the desire

is common to all." "Why, then," she rejoined, "are not all men,

Socrates, said to love, but only some them? whereas you say that all

men are always loving the same things." "I myself wonder," I said,-why

this is." "There is nothing to wonder at," she replied; "the reason is

that one part of love is separated off and receives the name of the

whole, but the other parts have other names." "Give an

illustration," I said. She answered me as follows: "There is poetry,

which, as you know, is complex; and manifold. All creation or

passage of non-being into being is poetry or making, and the processes

of all art are creative; and the masters of arts are all poets or

makers." "Very true." "Still," she said, "you know that they are not