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264 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 370
… wonder is the feeling of a philosopher, and philosophy begins in wonder.
SOCRATES: And so, Theaetetus, if ever in the future you should attempt to conceive or should succeed in conceiving other theories, they will be better ones as the result of this inquiry. And if you remain barren, your companions will find you gentler and less tiresome; you will be modest and not think you know what you don’t know. This is all my art can achieve — nothing more.
‘THEODORUS: […] I mean, they are certainly faithful to their texts – they are literally in motion! Their ability to stay put for a discussion or a question, or to keep still and ask and answer questions in due order, is worse than useless – though even that’s an exaggeration: there’s not the tiniest amount of tranquility in these people. Suppose you ask a question: they draw enigmatic phrases, as it were out of a quiver, and let fly. Suppose you ask for an explanation of these phrases: you just get hit with another weird metaphor. You’ll never get anything conclusive out of any of them – but then, they themselves don’t from one another either! They take a great deal of care not to allow any certainty to enter their speech or their minds. I suppose they think that certainty is fixed; and fixedness is the arch-enemy, whose utter banishment is the object of their efforts.’ P. 79And at the following point I felt there almost to be no difference between an absurdist poem and the Theaetetus, maybe even wishing for it to be a poem:
‘SOCRATES: […] If a is not known, it cannot be confused with b, which is also not known. If a is not known, it cannot be confused with b, which is known. If a is being perceived, it cannot be confused with b, which is also being perceived. If a is being perceived, it cannot be confused with b, which is not being perceived. […]' p. 100