on of rest and motion, but
something different from them.

THEAETETUS: So it would appear.

STRANGER: Being, then, according to its own nature, is neither in motion
nor at rest.

THEAETETUS: That is very much the truth.

STRANGER: Where, then, is a man to look for help who would have any
clear or fixed notion of being in his mind?

THEAETETUS: Where, indeed?

STRANGER: I scarcely think that he can look anywhere; for that which is
not in motion must be at rest, and again, that which is not at rest must
be in motion; but being is placed outside of both these classes. Is this
possible?

THEAETETUS: Utterly impossible.

STRANGER: Here, then, is another thing which we ought to bear in mind.

THEAETETUS: What?

STRANGER: When we were asked to what we were to assign the appellation
of not-being, we were in the greatest difficulty:--do you remember?

THEAETETUS: To be sure.

STRANGER: And are we not now in as great a difficulty about being?

THEAETETUS: I should say, Stranger, that we are in one which is, if
possible, even greater.

STRANGER: Then let us acknowledge the difficulty; and as being and
not-being are involved in the same perplexity, there is hope that when
the one appears more or less distinctly, the other will equally appear;
and if we are able to see neither, there may still be a chance of
steering our way in between them, without any great discredit.

THEAETETUS: Very good.

STRANGER: Let us enquire, then, how we come to predicate many names of
the same thing.

THEAETETUS: Give an example.

STRANGER: I mean that we speak of man, for example, under many
names--that we attribute to him colours and forms and magnitudes and
virtues and vices, in all of which instances and in ten thousand
others we not only speak of him as a man, but also as good, and having
numberless other attributes, and in the same way anything else which we
originally supposed to be one is described by us as many, and under many
names.

THEAETETUS: That is true.

STRANGER: And thus we provide a rich feast for tyros, whether young or
old; for there is nothing easier than to argue that the one cannot be
many, or the many one; and great is their delight in denying that a man
is good; for man, they insist, is man and good is good. I dare say that
you have met with persons who take an interest in such matters--they are
often elderly men, whose meagre sense is thrown into amazement by these
discoveries of theirs, which they