"How, Socrates?"

"I will tell you," he replied. "The lovers of wisdom know that philosophy, receiving their soul plainly bound and glued to the body, and compelled to view things through this, as through a prison, and not directly by herself, and sunk in utter ignorance, and perceiving, too, the strength of the prison, that it arises from desire, so that he who is bound as much as possible assists in binding himself. [73]. I say, then, the lovers of wisdom know that philosophy, receiving their soul in this state, gently exhorts it, and endeavors to free it, by showing that the view of things by means of the eyes is full of deception, as also is that through the ears and the other senses; persuading an abandonment of these so far as it is not absolutely necessary to use them, and advising the soul to be collected and concentrated within itself, and to believe nothing else than herself, with respect to what she herself understands of things that have a real subsistence; and to consider nothing true which she views through the medium of others, and which differ under different aspects;[33] for that a thing of this kind is sensible and visible, but that what she herself perceives is intelligible and invisible. The soul of the true philosopher, therefore, thinking that she ought not to oppose this deliverance, accordingly abstains as much as possible from pleasures and desires, griefs and fears, considering that when any one is exceedingly delighted or alarmed, grieved or influenced by desire, he does not merely suffer such evil from these things as one might suppose, such as either being sick or wasting his property through indulging his desires; but that which is the greatest evil, and the worst of all, this he suffers, and is not conscious of it."

"But what is this evil, Socrates?" said Cebes.

[74]. "That the soul of every man is compelled to be either vehemently delighted or grieved about some particular thing, and, at the same time, to consider that the thing about which it is thus strongly affected is most real and most true, though it is not so. But these are chiefly visible objects, are they not?"

"Certainly."

"In this state of affection, then, is not the soul especially shackled by the body?"

"How so?"

"Because each pleasure and pain, having a nail, as it were, nails the soul to the body, and fastens it to it, and causes it to become corporeal, deeming those things to be true whatever the body asserts to be so. For, in consequence of its forming the same opinions with the body, and delighting in the same things, it is compelled, I think, to possess similar manners, and to be similarly nourished; so that it can never pass into Hades in a pure state, but must ever depart polluted by the body, and so quickly falls again into another body, and grows up as if it were sown, and consequently is deprived of all association with that which is divine, and pure, and uniform."

"You speak most truly, Socrates," said Cebes.

[75]. "For these reasons, therefore, Cebes, those who are truly lovers of wisdom are moderate and resolute, and not for the reasons that most people say. Do you think as they do?"