or only some men?--what say you?' 'All men,' I replied; 'the desire is
common to all.' 'Why, then,' she rejoined, 'are not all men, Socrates,
said to love, but only some of them? whereas you say that all men are
always loving the same things.' 'I myself wonder,' I said, 'why this is.'
'There is nothing to wonder at,' she replied; 'the reason is that one part
of love is separated off and receives the name of the whole, but the other
parts have other names.' 'Give an illustration,' I said. She answered me
as follows: 'There is poetry, which, as you know, is complex and manifold.
All creation or passage of non-being into being is poetry or making, and
the processes of all art are creative; and the masters of arts are all
poets or makers.' 'Very true.' 'Still,' she said, 'you know that they are
not called poets, but have other names; only that portion of the art which
is separated off from the rest, and is concerned with music and metre, is
termed poetry, and they who possess poetry in this sense of the word are
called poets.' 'Very true,' I said. 'And the same holds of love. For you
may say generally that all desire of good and happiness is only the great
and subtle power of love; but they who are drawn towards him by any other
path, whether the path of money-making or gymnastics or philosophy, are not
called lovers--the name of the whole is appropriated to those whose
affection takes one form only--they alone are said to love, or to be
lovers.' 'I dare say,' I replied, 'that you are right.' 'Yes,' she added,
'and you hear people say that lovers are seeking for their other half; but
I say that they are seeking neither for the half of themselves, nor for the
whole, unless the half or the whole be also a good. And they will cut off
their own hands and feet and cast them away, if they are evil; for they
love not what is their own, unless perchance there be some one who calls
what belongs to him the good, and what belongs to another the evil. For
there is nothing which men love but the good. Is there anything?'
'Certainly, I should say, that there is nothing.' 'Then,' she said, 'the
simple truth is, that men love the good.' 'Yes,' I said. 'To which must