same. This is a strain of art beyond the reach of most of us.

Yes, Socrates, said Zeno. But although you are as keen as a Spartan hound
in pursuing the track, you do not fully apprehend the true motive of the
composition, which is not really such an artificial work as you imagine;
for what you speak of was an accident; there was no pretence of a great
purpose; nor any serious intention of deceiving the world. The truth is,
that these writings of mine were meant to protect the arguments of
Parmenides against those who make fun of him and seek to show the many
ridiculous and contradictory results which they suppose to follow from the
affirmation of the one. My answer is addressed to the partisans of the
many, whose attack I return with interest by retorting upon them that their
hypothesis of the being of many, if carried out, appears to be still more
ridiculous than the hypothesis of the being of one. Zeal for my master led
me to write the book in the days of my youth, but some one stole the copy;
and therefore I had no choice whether it should be published or not; the
motive, however, of writing, was not the ambition of an elder man, but the
pugnacity of a young one. This you do not seem to see, Socrates; though in
other respects, as I was saying, your notion is a very just one.

I understand, said Socrates, and quite accept your account. But tell me,
Zeno, do you not further think that there is an idea of likeness in itself,
and another idea of unlikeness, which is the opposite of likeness, and that
in these two, you and I and all other things to which we apply the term
many, participate--things which participate in likeness become in that
degree and manner like; and so far as they participate in unlikeness become
in that degree unlike, or both like and unlike in the degree in which they
participate in both? And may not all things partake of both opposites, and
be both like and unlike, by reason of this participation?--Where is the
wonder? Now if a person could prove the absolute like to become unlike, or