or hear the laws or decrees,
as they are called, of the state written or recited; the eagerness of
political societies in the attainment of offices--clubs, and banquets,
and revels, and singing-maidens,--do not enter even into their dreams.
Whether any event has turned out well or ill in the city, what disgrace
may have descended to any one from his ancestors, male or female, are
matters of which the philosopher no more knows than he can tell, as they
say, how many pints are contained in the ocean. Neither is he conscious
of his ignorance. For he does not hold aloof in order that he may gain a
reputation; but the truth is, that the outer form of him only is in the
city: his mind, disdaining the littlenesses and nothingnesses of human
things, is 'flying all abroad' as Pindar says, measuring earth and
heaven and the things which are under and on the earth and above
the heaven, interrogating the whole nature of each and all in their
entirety, but not condescending to anything which is within reach.

THEODORUS: What do you mean, Socrates?

SOCRATES: I will illustrate my meaning, Theodorus, by the jest which the
clever witty Thracian handmaid is said to have made about Thales, when
he fell into a well as he was looking up at the stars. She said, that he
was so eager to know what was going on in heaven, that he could not see
what was before his feet. This is a jest which is equally applicable to
all philosophers. For the philosopher is wholly unacquainted with his
next-door neighbour; he is ignorant, not only of what he is doing, but
he hardly knows whether he is a man or an animal; he is searching into
the essence of man, and busy in enquiring what belongs to such a nature
to do or suffer different from any other;--I think that you understand
me, Theodorus?

THEODORUS: I do, and what you say is true.

SOCRATES: And thus, my friend, on every occasion, private as well as
public, as I said at first, when he appears in a law-court, or in any
place in which he has to speak of things which are at his feet and
before his eyes, he is the jest, not only of Thracian handmaids but of
the general herd, tumbling into wells and every sort of disaster through
his inexperience. His awkwardness is fearful, and gives the impression
of imbecility. When he is reviled, he has nothing personal to say in
answer to the civilities of his adversaries, for he knows no scandals
of any one, and they do not interest him; and therefore he is laughed at