Symposium (204-205)

The position is this: no gods ensue wisdom or desire to be made wise; such they are already; nor does anyone else that is wise ensue it. Neither do the ignorant ensue wisdom, nor desire to be made wise: in this very point is ignorance distressing, when a person who is not comely or worthy or intelligent is satisfied with himself. The man who does not feel himself defective has no desire for that whereof he feels no defect. Who then, Diotima, I asked, are the followers of wisdom, if they are neither the wise nor the ignorant? Why, a child could tell by this time, she answered, that they are the intermediate sort, and amongst these also is Love. For wisdom has to do with the fairest things, and Love is a love directed to what is fair; so that Love must needs be a friend of wisdom, and, as such, must be between wise and ignorant. This again is a result for which he has to thank his origin: for while he comes of a wise and resourceful father, his mother is unwise and resourceless. Such, my good Socrates, is the nature of this spirit. That you should have formed your other notion of Love is no surprising accident. You supposed, if I am to take your own words as evidence, that the beloved and not the lover was Love. This led you, I fancy, to hold that Love is all-beautiful. The lovable, indeed, is the truly beautiful, tender, perfect, and heaven-blest; but the lover is of a different type, in accordance with the account I have given. Upon this I observed: Very well then, madam, you are right; but if Love is such as you describe him, of what use is he to mankind? That is the next question, Socrates, she replied, on which I will try to enlighten you. While Love is of such nature and origin as I have related, he is also set on beautiful things, as you say. Now, suppose some one were to ask us: In what respect is he Love of beautiful things, Socrates and Diotima? But let me put the question more clearly thus: What is the love of the lover of beautiful things? That they may be his, I replied. But your answer craves a further query, she said, such as this: What will he have who gets beautiful things? This question I declared I was quite unable now to answer offhand. Well, she proceeded, imagine that the object is changed, and the inquiry is made about the good instead of the beautiful. Come, Socrates (I shall say), what is the love of the lover of good things? That they may be his, I replied. And what will he have who gets good things? I can make more shift to answer this, I said; he will be happy.

Yes, she said, the happy are happy by acquisition of good things, and we have no more need to ask for what end a man wishes to be happy, when such is his wish: the answer seems to be ultimate. Quite true, I said. Now do you suppose this wish or this love to be common to all mankind, and that every one always wishes to have good things? Or what do you say? Even so, I said; it is common to all. Well then, Socrates, she said, we do not mean that all men love, when we say that all men love the same things always; we mean that some people love and others do not? I am wondering myself, I replied. But you should not wonder, she said; for we have singled out a certain form of love, and applying thereto the name of the whole, we call it love; and there are other names that we commonly abuse. As, for example—? I asked. Take the following: you know that poetry [*] is more than a single thing. For of anything whatever that passes from not being into being the whole cause is composing or poetry; so that the productions of all arts are kinds of poetry, and their craftsmen are all poets. That is true. But still, as you are aware, said she, they are not called poets: they have other names, while a single section disparted from the whole of poetry—merely the business of music and meters—is entitled with the name of the whole. This and no more is called poetry; those only who possess this branch of the art are poets. Quite true, I said. Well, it is just the same with love. Generically, indeed, it is all that desire of good things and of being happy [*]—Love most mighty and all-beguiling. Yet, whereas those who resort to him in various other ways—in money-making, an inclination to sports, or philosophy—are not described either as loving or as lovers, all those who pursue him seriously in one of his several forms obtain, as loving and as lovers, the name of the whole. I fancy you are right, I said. And certainly there runs a story, she continued, that all who go seeking their other half [*] are in love; though by my account love is neither for half nor for whole, unless, of course, my dear sir, this happens to be something good. For men are prepared to have their own feet and hands cut off if they feel these belongings to be harmful.