Hermogenes. No, by Zeus, I do not. But I think Hesiod is right in saying: If you can only add little to little, it is worth while. Hes. WD 359 So now if you can make even a little progress, do not shirk the trouble, but oblige Socrates—you owe it to him—and me. Socrates. For that matter, Cratylus, I would not positively affirm any of the things I have said. I merely expressed the opinions which I reached with the help of Hermogenes. So far as I am concerned, you need not hesitate,
 and if your view is better than mine, I will accept it. And I should not be at all surprised if it were better; for I think you have not only investigated such matters yourself but have been taught about them by others. So if you have any better theory to propound, put me down as one of your pupils in the course on the correctness of names. Cratylus. Yes, Socrates, I have, as you say, paid attention to these matters, and perhaps I might make you my pupil. However, I am afraid the opposite is the case,
 and I am impelled to say to you what Achilles says in the Prayers to Ajax. He says: Ajax, descendant of Zeus, son of Telamon, chief of thy people, All thou hast uttered is good in my sight and pleases my spirit. Hom. Il. 9.644 f And so, Socrates, your oracular utterances seem to me to be much to my mind, whether you are inspired by Euthyphro or some other Muse has dwelt within you all along without our knowing it.
 Socrates. My excellent Cratylus, I myself have been marvelling at my own wisdom all along, and I cannot believe in it. So I think we ought to reexamine my utterances. For the worst of all deceptions is self-deception. How can it help being terrible, when the deceiver is always present and never stirs from the spot? So I think we must turn back repeatedly to what we have said and must try, as the poet says, to look both forwards and backwards. Hom. Il. 1.343; 3.109 
 Then let us now see what we have said. Correctness of a name, we say, is the quality of showing the nature of the thing named. Shall we call that a satisfactory statement? Cratylus. I am perfectly satisfied with it, Socrates. Socrates. Names, then, are given with a view to instruction? Cratylus. Certainly. Socrates. Shall we, then; say that this instruction is an art and has its artisans? Cratylus. Certainly. Socrates. Who are they?
 Cratylus. The lawgivers, as you said in the beginning. Socrates. Shall we declare that this art arises in men like the other arts, or not? What I mean is this: Some painters are better, and others worse, are they not? Cratylus. Certainly. Socrates. And the better produce better works—that is, their paintings—and the others worse works? And likewise some builders build better houses and others worse? Cratylus. Yes.
 Socrates. Then do some lawgivers produce better, and others worse works? Cratylus. No; at that point I cease to agree. Socrates. Then you do not think that some laws are better, and some worse? Cratylus. No, I do not. Socrates. And you do not, it appears, think that one name is better, and another worse? Cratylus. No, I do not. Socrates. Then all names are correct? Cratylus. All that are really names. Socrates. How about the name of our friend Hermogenes,
 which was mentioned a while ago? Shall we say that it is not his name at all, unless he belongs to the race of Hermes, or that it is his name, but is incorrect? Cratylus. I think, Socrates, that it is not his name at all; it appears to be his, but is really the name of some one else who possesses the nature that makes the name clear. Socrates. And when anyone says that our friend is Hermogenes, is he not even speaking falsely? For perhaps it is not even possible to say that he is Hermogenes, if he is not. Cratylus. What do you mean? Socrates. Do you mean to say that it is impossible to speak falsehood at all?
 For there are, my dear Cratylus, many who do so, and who have done so in the past. Cratylus. Why, Socrates, how could anyone who says that which he says, say that which is not? Is not falsehood saying that which is not? Socrates. Your reasoning is too clever for me at my age, my friend. However, tell me this: Do you think it is possible to speak falsehood,
 but not to say it? Cratylus. Neither to speak nor to say it. Socrates. Nor utter it or use it as a form of address? For instance, if some one should meet you in hospitable fashion, should grasp your hand and say, Well met, my friend from Athens , son of Smicrion, Hermogenes, would he be saying or speaking or uttering or addressing these words not to you, but to Hermogenes—or to nobody? Cratylus. I think, Socrates, the man would be producing sounds without sense. Socrates. Even that reply is welcome;
 for I can ask whether the words he produced would be true, or false, or partly true and partly false. Even that would suffice. Cratylus. I should say that the man in such a case was merely making a noise, going through purposeless motions, as if he were beating a bronze pot. Socrates. Let us see, Cratylus, if we cannot come to terms somehow. You would agree, would you not, that the name is one thing and the thing of which it is the name is another? Cratylus. Yes, I should. Socrates. And you agree that the name is an imitation
 of the thing named? Cratylus. Most assuredly. Socrates. And you agree that paintings also are imitations, though in a different way, of things? Cratylus. Yes. Socrates. Well then—for perhaps I do not understand, and you may be right—can both of these imitations, the paintings and the names, be assigned and applied to the things which they imitate, or not?
 Cratylus. They can. Socrates. First, then, consider this question: Can we assign the likeness of the man to the man and that of the woman to the woman, and so forth? Cratylus. Certainly. Socrates. And can we conversely attribute that of the man to the woman, and the woman’s to the man? Cratylus. That is also possible. Socrates. And are these assignments both correct, or only the former? Cratylus. The former. Socrates. The assignment, in short, which attributes to each that which belongs to it and is like it. Cratylus. That is my view. Socrates. To put an end to contentious argument between you and me,
 since we are friends, let me state my position. I call that kind of assignment in the case of both imitations paintings and names—correct, and in the case of names not only correct, but true; and the other kind, which gives and applies the unlike imitation, I call incorrect and, in the case of names, false. Cratylus. But it may be, Socrates, that this incorrect assignment is possible in the case of paintings, and not in the case of names,
 which must be always correctly assigned. Socrates. What do you mean? What difference is there between the two? Can I not step up to a man and say to him, This is your portrait, and show him perhaps his own likeness or, perhaps, that of a woman? And by show I mean bring before the sense of sight. Cratylus. Certainly. Socrates. Well, then, can I not step up to the same man again and say, This is your name ? A name is an imitation, just as a picture is.
 Very well; can I not say to him, This is your name, and then bring before his sense of hearing perhaps the imitation of himself, saying that it is a man, or perhaps the imitation of the female of the human species, saying that it is a woman? Do you not believe that this is possible and sometimes happens? Cratylus. I am willing to concede it, Socrates, and grant that you are right. Socrates. That is a good thing for you to do, my friend, if I am right; for now we need no longer argue about the matter.
 If, then, some such assignment of names takes place, we will call one kind speaking truth, and the other speaking falsehood. But if this is accepted, and if it is possible to assign names incorrectly and to give to objects not the names that befit them, but sometimes those that are unfitting, it would be possible to treat verbs in the same way. And if verbs and nouns can be assigned in this way, the same must be true of sentences; for sentences are, I conceive, a combination of verbs and nouns.
 What do you say to that, Cratylus? Cratylus. I agree; I think you are right. Socrates. If, then, we compare the earliest words to sketches, it is possible in them, as in pictures, to reproduce all the colors and shapes, or not all; some may be wanting, and some may be added, and they may be too many or too large. Is not that true? Cratylus. Yes, it is. Socrates. Then he who reproduces all, produces good sketches and pictures, and he who adds or takes away produces also sketches and pictures, but bad ones?
 Cratylus. Yes. Socrates. And how about him who imitates the nature of things by means of letters and syllables? By the same principle, if he gives all that is appropriate, the image—that is to say, the name—will be good, and if he sometimes omits a little, it will be an image, but not a good one; and therefore some names are well and others badly made. Is that not true? Cratylus. Perhaps.
 Socrates. Perhaps, then, one artisan of names will be good, and another bad? Cratylus. Yes. Socrates. The name of such an artisan was lawgiver? Cratylus. Yes. Socrates. Perhaps, then, by Zeus, as is the case in the other arts, one lawgiver may be good and another bad, if we accept our previous conclusions. Cratylus. That is true. But you see, Socrates, when by the science of grammar we assign these letters—alpha, beta, and the rest—to names,
 if we take away or add or transpose any letter, it is not true that the name is written, but written incorrectly; it is not written at all, but immediately becomes a different word, if any such thing happens to it. Socrates. Perhaps we are not considering the matter in the right way. Cratylus. Why not? Socrates. It may be that what you say would be true of those things which must necessarily consist of a certain number or cease to exist at all, as ten, for instance, or any number you like,
 if you add or subtract anything is immediately another number; but this is not the kind of correctness which applies to quality or to images in general; on the contrary, the image must not by any means reproduce all the qualities of that which it imitates, if it is to be an image. See if I am not right. Would there be two things, Cratylus and the image of Cratylus, if some god should not merely imitate your color and form, as painters do, but should also make all the inner parts like yours, should reproduce
 the same flexibility and warmth, should put into them motion, life, and intellect, such as exist in you, and in short, should place beside you a duplicate of all your qualities? Would there be in such an event Cratylus and an image of Cratylus, or two Cratyluses? Cratylus. I should say, Socrates, two Cratyluses. Socrates. Then don’t you see, my friend, that we must look for some other principle of correctness in images and in names, of which we were speaking, and must not insist that they are no longer images
 if anything be wanting or be added? Do you not perceive how far images are from possessing the same qualities as the originals which they imitate? Cratylus. Yes, I do. Socrates. Surely, Cratylus, the effect produced by the names upon the things of which they are the names would be ridiculous, if they were to be entirely like them in every respect. For everything would be duplicated, and no one could tell in any case which was the real thing and which the name. Cratylus. Quite true. Socrates. Then do not be faint-hearted, but have the courage to admit that one name may be correctly and another incorrectly given;
 do not insist that it must have all the letters and be exactly the same as the thing named, but grant that an inappropriate letter may be employed. But if a letter, then grant that also a noun in a clause, and if a noun, then also a clause in a sentence may be employed which is not appropriate to the things in question, and the thing may none the less be named and described, so long as the intrinsic quality of the thing named is retained,
 as is the case in the names of the letters of the alphabet, if you remember what Hermogenes and I were saying a while ago.