“As a blasphemer. You have repudiated the gods of the State.”
“Who is the informer?”
“The sycophant, the invisible, who is present everywhere.”
“All is probable; nothing is certain,” exclaimed Protagoras.
“Yes, this is certain.”
“Well, my fabric of thought is shattered against this certainty as everything else is shattered.”
“[Greek: Pànta reî]. Everything flows away; nothing endures; all comes to birth, grows, and dies.”
“Farewell, then, Aspasia, Socrates, friends, fatherland!
“Farewell!”
Protagoras departed with his mantle drawn over his head.