have grown to be
the wisest of mankind; for they alone perceive the utter unsoundness and
instability of all arguments, or indeed, of all things, which, like the
currents in the Euripus, are going up and down in never-ceasing ebb and
flow.

That is quite true, I said.

Yes, Phaedo, he replied, and how melancholy, if there be such a thing as
truth or certainty or possibility of knowledge--that a man should have
lighted upon some argument or other which at first seemed true and then
turned out to be false, and instead of blaming himself and his own want
of wit, because he is annoyed, should at last be too glad to transfer
the blame from himself to arguments in general: and for ever afterwards
should hate and revile them, and lose truth and the knowledge of
realities.

Yes, indeed, I said; that is very melancholy.

Let us then, in the first place, he said, be careful of allowing or of
admitting into our souls the notion that there is no health or soundness
in any arguments at all. Rather say that we have not yet attained to
soundness in ourselves, and that we must struggle manfully and do our
best to gain health of mind--you and all other men having regard to the
whole of your future life, and I myself in the prospect of death. For at
this moment I am sensible that I have not the temper of a philosopher;
like the vulgar, I am only a partisan. Now the partisan, when he is
engaged in a dispute, cares nothing about the rights of the question,
but is anxious only to convince his hearers of his own assertions.
And the difference between him and me at the present moment is merely
this--that whereas he seeks to convince his hearers that what he says is
true, I am rather seeking to convince myself; to convince my hearers
is a secondary matter with me. And do but see how much I gain by the
argument. For if what I say is true, then I do well to be persuaded of
the truth, but if there be nothing after death, still, during the short
time that remains, I shall not distress my friends with lamentations,
and my ignorance will not last, but will die with me, and therefore
no harm will be done. This is the state of mind, Simmias and Cebes, in
which I approach the argument. And I would ask you to be thinking of
the truth and not of Socrates: agree with me, if I seem to you to be
speaking the truth; or if not, withstand me might and main, that I may
not deceive you as well as myself in my enthusiasm, and like the bee,
leave my sting in