S.  “And certain, if, as we agreed, it be the very spirit which sees all facts whatsoever as they are.  Now tell me, can the less see the greater as it is?”

P.  “I think not; for an animal cannot see a man as he is, but only that part of him in which he is like an animal, namely, his outward figure and his animal passions; but not his moral sense or reason, for of them it has itself no share.”

S.  “True; and in like wise, a man of less intellect could not see a man of greater intellect than himself as he is, but only a part of his intellect.”

P.  “Certainly.”

S.  “And does not the same thing follow from what we said just now, that God’s conceptions of himself must be the only perfect conceptions of him?  For if any being could see God as he is, the same would be able to conceive of him as he is:  which we agreed was impossible.”

P.  “True.”

S.  “Then surely this spirit which sees God as he is, must be equal with God.”

P.  “It seems probable; but none is equal to God except himself.”

S.  “Most true, Phaethon.  But what shall we say now, but that this spirit of truth, whereof thou hast been enamoured, is, according to the argument, none other than Zeus, who alone comprehends all things, and sees them as they are, because he alone has given to each its inward and necessary laws?”

P.  “But, Socrates, there seems something impious in the thought.”

S.  “Impious, truly, if we held that this spirit of truth was a part of your own self.  But we agreed that it was not a part of you, but something utterly independent of you.”

P.  “Noble would the news be, Socrates, were it true; yet it seems to me beyond belief.”

S.  “Did we not prove just now concerning Zeus, that all mistakes concerning him were certain to be mistakes of defect?”

P.  “We did, indeed.”

S.  “How do you know, then, that you have not fallen into some such error, and have suspected Zeus to be less condescending towards you than he really is?”

P.  “Would that it were so!  But I fear it is too fair a hope.”

S.  “Do I seem to thee now, dear boy, more insolent and unfeeling than Protagoras, when he tried to turn thee away from the search after absolute truth, by saying sophistically that it was an attempt of the Titans to scale heaven, and bade thee be content with asserting shamelessly and brutishly thine own subjective opinions?  For I do not bid thee scale the throne of Zeus, into whose presence none could arrive, as it seems to me, unless he himself willed it; but to believe that he has given thee from thy childhood a glimpse of his own excellence, that so thy heart, conjecturing, as in the case of a veiled statue, from one part the beauty of the rest, might become enamoured thereof, and long for that sight of him which is the highest and only good, that so his splendour may give thee light to see facts as they are.”