ii USELESS KNOWLEDGE 39 



untenable always turns out to be so called because it is 

 practically untenable. 



The sophist whom, with difficulty, I read seemed to 

 see no way from the one to the other. 



I don t suppose he wished to. It would have upset his 

 whole philosophy, and you know how ready philosophers 

 are to declare inexplicable and not to be grasped by man 

 whatever &quot; difficulty &quot; reveals the errors into which they 

 have plunged. 



Yes, there is no Tartaros to which they would not 

 willingly descend rather than confess that they have 

 started on the wrong track. But even you have asserted 

 the existence of a better way rather than shown it 

 to us. 



I must confess, Plato, that much as I should have 

 wished to show you that my way is both practical and 

 practicable I have not had the time to do this. But if I 

 had, I feel sure that I could do so. 



Say on ; there is no limit but life itself to the search 

 for Truth. 



That is all very well for you, whose abode has been 

 in these pleasant places for so long, and to whom, it 

 seems, there comes neither death nor change. But 7 

 have to go back. 



To your pupils ? 



Yes, and already I feel the premonitory heaviness in 

 my feet It will slowly creep upwards, and when it 

 reaches the head I shall go to sleep and wake again in 

 another world far from you. 



I am sorry ; though it will interest us to see how you 

 vanish. But before you pass away, will you not, seeing 

 that all truth you say is practical, tell us what in this 

 case is the practical application of the &quot; truths &quot; you have 

 championed ? 



With the greatest pleasure, Plato, that is what I 

 was coming back to. They form my excellent excuse 

 for neglecting to tell men about your ideas. 



I do not quite see how. 



W T hy, so long as my knowledge of your world is 



