Parmenides (156-160)

True.

And is there not also a time when it assumes being and when it gives it up? How can it sometimes have and sometimes not have the same thing, unless it receives it at some time and again loses it?

There is no other way at all.

But would you not say that receiving existence is generation or becoming?

Yes.

And losing existence is destruction?

Certainly.

The one, then, as it appears, since it receives and loses existence, is generated and destroyed.

Inevitably.

And being one and many and being generated and destroyed, when it becomes one its existence as many is destroyed, and when it becomes many its existence as one is destroyed, is it not?

Certainly.

And in becoming one and many, must it not be separated and combined?

Inevitably.

And when it becomes like and unlike, it must be assimilated and dissimilated?

Yes.

And when it becomes greater and smaller and equal, it must be increased and diminished and equalized?

Yes.

And when being in motion it comes to rest, and when being at rest it changes to motion, it must itself be in no time at all.

How is that?

It is impossible for it to be previously at rest and afterwards in motion, or previously in motion and afterwards at rest, without changing.

Of course.

And there is no time in which anything can be at once neither in motion nor at rest.

No, there is none.

And certainly it cannot change without changing.

I should say not.

Then when does it change? For it does not change when it is at rest or when it is in motion or when it is in time.

No, it does not.

Does this strange thing, then, exist, in which it would be at the moment when it changes?

What sort of thing is that?

The instant. For the instant seems to indicate a something from which there is a change in one direction or the other. For it does not change from rest while it is still at rest, nor from motion while it is still moving; but there is this strange instantaneous nature, something interposed between motion and rest, not existing in any time, and into this and out from this that which is in motion changes into rest and that which is at rest changes into motion.

Yes, that must be so.

Then the one, if it is at rest and in motion, must change in each direction; for that is the only way in which it can do both. But in changing, it changes instantaneously, and when it changes it can be in no time, and at that instant it will be neither in motion nor at rest.

No.

And will the case not be the same in relation to other changes? When it changes from being to destruction or from not being to becoming, does it not pass into an intermediate stage between certain forms of motion and rest, so that it neither is nor is not, neither comes into being nor is destroyed?

Yes, so it appears.

And on the same principle, when it passes from one to many or from many to one, it is neither one nor many, is neither in a process of separation nor in one of combination. And in passing from like to unlike or from unlike to like, it is neither like nor unlike, neither in a process of assimilation nor in one of dissimilation; and in passing from small to great and to equal and vice versa, it is neither small nor great nor equal, neither in a process of increase, nor of diminution, nor of equality.

Apparently not.

All this, then, would happen to the one, if the one exists.

Yes, certainly.

Must we not consider what is likely to happen to the other things, if the one exists?

We must.

Shall we tell, then, what must happen to the things other than one, if one exists?

Let us do so.

Well, since they are other than the one, the other things are not the one for if they were, they would not be other than the one.

True.

And yet surely the others are not altogether deprived of the one, but they partake of it in a certain way.

In what way?

Because the others are other than the one by reason of having parts; for if they had no parts, they would be altogether one.

True.

But parts, we affirm, belong to that which is a whole.

Yes, we affirm that they do.

But the whole must be one composed of many and of this the parts are parts. For each of the parts must be a part, not of many, but of a whole.

How is that?

If anything is a part of many, and is itself one of the many, it will be a part of itself, which is impossible, and of each one of the others, if it is a part of all. For if it is not a part of some particular one, it will be a part of the rest, with the exception of that one, and thus it will not be a part of each one, and not being a part of each one, it will not be a part of any one of the many. But that which belongs to none cannot belong, whether as a part or as anything else, to all those things to none of which it belongs.

That is clear.

Then the part is a part, not of the many nor of all, but of a single form and a single concept which we call a whole, a perfect unity created out of all this it is of which the part is a part.

Certainly.

If, then, the others have parts, they will partake of the whole and of the one.

True.

Then the things which are other than one must be a perfect whole which has parts.

Yes, they must.

And the same reasoning applies to each part for the part must partake of the one. For if each of the parts is a part, the word each implies that it is one, separated from the rest, and existing by itself; otherwise it will not be each.

True.

But its participation in the one clearly implies that it is other than the one, for if not, it would not partake of the one, but would actually be one; but really it is impossible for anything except one itself to be one.

Yes, it is impossible.

And both the whole and the part must necessarily participate in the one; for the one will be a whole of which the parts are parts, and again each individual one which is a part of a whole will be a part of the whole.

Yes.

And will not the things which participate in the one be other than the one while participating in it?

Of course.

But the things which are other than the one will be many; for if they were neither one nor more than one, they would not be anything.

No.

But since the things which participate in the one as a part and the one as a whole are more than one, must not those participants in the one be infinite in number?

How so?

Let us look at the question in this way. Is it not true that at the moment when they begin to participate in the one they are not one and do not participate in one?

Clearly.

Then they are multitudes, in which the one is not, are they not?

Yes, they are multitudes.

Well, then, if we should subtract from them in thought the smallest possible quantity, must not that which is subtracted, if it has no participation in one, be also a multitude, and not one?

It must.

And always when we consider the nature of the class, which makes it other than one, whatever we see of it at any time will be unlimited in number, will it not?

Certainly.

And, further, when each part becomes a part, straightway the parts are limited in relation to each other and to the whole, and the whole in relation to the parts.

Undoubtedly.

The result, then, to the things which are other than one, that from the one and the union of themselves with it there arises, as it appears, something different within themselves which gives them a limitation in relation to one another; but their own nature, when they are left to themselves, gives them no limits.

So it appears.

Then the things which are other than one, both as wholes and as parts, are both unlimited and partake of limitation.

Certainly.

And are they also both like and unlike one another and themselves?

How is that?

Inasmuch as they are all by their own nature unlimited, they are all in that respect affected in the same way.

Certainly.

And surely inasmuch as they all partake of limitation, they are all affected in the same way in that respect also.

Obviously.

And inasmuch as they are so affected as to be both limited and limitless, they are affected by affections which are the opposites of one another.

Yes.

But opposites are as unlike as possible.

To be sure.

Then with regard to either one of their two affections they are like themselves and each other, but with regard to both of them together they are utterly opposed and unlike.

Yes, that must be true.

Therefore the others are both like and unlike themselves and one another.

So they are.

And they are the same as one another and also other than one another, they are both in motion and at rest, and since we have proved these cases, we can easily show that the things which are other than one experience all the opposite affections.

You are right.

Then what if we now drop these matters as evident and again consider whether, if one is, the things other than one are as we have said, and there is no alternative.

Certainly.

Let us then begin at the beginning and ask, if one is, what must happen to the things which are other than one.

By all means.

Must not the one be separate from the others, and the others from the one?

Why is that?

Because there is nothing else besides these, which is other than one and other than the others. For when we have said one and the others we have included all things.

Yes, all things.

Then there is nothing other than these, in which both the one and the others may be.

No.

Then the one and the others can never be in the same.

Apparently not.

Then they are separate?

Yes.

And surely we say that what is truly one has no parts.

How can it have parts?

Then the one cannot be in the others as a whole, nor can parts of it, if it is separate from the others and has no parts.

Of course not.

Then the others cannot partake of the one in any way; they can neither partake of any part of it nor of the whole.

No, apparently not.

The others are, then, not one in any sense, nor have they in themselves any unity.

No.

But neither are the others many; for if they were many, each of them would be one part of the whole; but actually the things that are other than one are not many nor a whole nor parts, since they do not participate in the one in any way.

Right.

Neither are the others two or three, nor are two or three in them, if they are entirely deprived of unity.

True.

Nor are the others either themselves like and unlike the one, nor are likeness and unlikeness in them; for if they were like and unlike or had likeness and unlikeness in them, the things which are other than the one would have in them two elements opposite to one another.

That is clear.

But it is impossible for that to partake of two things which does not even partake of one.

Impossible.

The others are, then, not like nor unlike nor both. For if they were like or unlike, they would partake of one of the two elements, and if they were both, of the two opposites and that was shown to be impossible.

True.

They are, then, neither the same nor other, nor in motion nor at rest, nor becoming nor being destroyed, nor greater nor less nor equal, and they experience no similar affections; for if the others are subject to such affections, they will participate in one and two and three and odd and even, in which we saw that they cannot participate, if they are in every way utterly deprived of unity.

Very true.

Therefore if one exists, the one is all things and nothing at all in relation both to itself and to all others.

Perfectly true.

Well, and ought we not next to consider what must happen if one does not exist?

Yes, we ought.

What, then, is the sense of this hypothesis—if one does not exist?

Is it different in any way from this—if not one does not exist?

Certainly it is different.

Is it merely different, or are the two expressions—if not one does not exist and if one does not exist—complete opposites?

They are complete opposites.

Now if a person should say if greatness does not exist, if smallness does not exist, or anything of that sort, would he not make it clear that in each case the thing he speaks of as not existing is different?

Certainly.

And in our case does he not make it clear that he means, when he says if one is not, that the thing which is not is different from other things, and do we not know what he means?

Yes, we do know.

In the first place, then, he speaks of something which is known, and secondly of something different from other things, when he says one, whether he adds to it that it is or that it is not; for that which is said to be non-existent is known none the less, and is known to be different from other things, is it not?

Certainly.

Then we should begin at the beginning by asking: if one is not, what must follow? In the first place this must be true of the one, that there is knowledge of it, or else not even the meaning of the words if the one does not exist would be known.

True.

And is it not also true that the others differ from the one, or it cannot be said to differ from the others?

Certainly.

Then a difference belongs to the one in addition to knowledge; for when we say that the one differs from the others, we speak of a difference in the one, not in the others.

That is clear.

And the non-existent one partakes of that and some and this and relation to this and these and all notions of that sort; for the one could not be spoken of, nor could the things which are other than one, nor could anything in relation to the one or belonging to it be or be spoken of, if the one did not partake of the notion some or of those other notions.

True.