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We are in the world what words are in a book. Each generation is like a line, a sentence of it.
The One, the author, changes and corrects; in considering us, he reads the expression of his thought.
Men, concern yourselves with human things. Gods, concern yourselves with divine things.
“That is how love harnesses me (says Ibycus, seeing his old horse being yoked to the chariot against the animal’s will).”
Note. — It is fitting for an old man to speak at length only before a small number: namely, those who must speak before the others.
God! Whether you are one, or whether you are many.
Here below, time, measured by the succession of beings who constantly change and renew themselves among us, can be seen, felt, counted; it exists. Higher up, there is no change, no succession, no newness, no oldness. Everything appears and everything is always the same, and there is no time there, no yesterday or tomorrow.
Writing is more closely bound to thought than speech is.
The One is the whole, and the other is the parts.
Plato. — The whole is more whole when the part is smaller. — To be is to have an existence in common with the present time. — If everything is not, there is nothing.
“It is not the author who has made the error, it is time,” Aristarchus would say of those beauties in old writings to which later generations can no longer respond, maintaining thus, and rightly, that the dishes and their flavors had not changed, but tastes had.
At the foot of the altars of those gods addressed only with pleasant, gentle words, man learned to be gentle, ornate, and polished in his speech with men.
December 29, 1791.
There were no free schools among [the Athenians]. This made the sophists so renowned, and made so many citizens, unpracticed in this kind of fencing, the dupes of those vain, talkative men.