Appearances are a glimpse of the unseen.
AnaxagorasRead
The Greeks are wrong to recognize coming into being and perishing; for nothing comes into being nor perishes, but is rather compounded or dissolved from things that are. So they would be right to call coming into being composition and perishing dissolution.
Interpretation
Anaxagoras argues that nothing truly comes into existence or ceases to exist; instead, things are simply formed or broken down from existing materials.
In this quote, Anaxagoras challenges the conventional Greek belief about existence, asserting that what we perceive as coming into being or perishing is merely a transformation of existing substances. He suggests that all matter is eternal, and that what we label as creation or destruction is actually just a rearrangement of what is already present, calling for a more nuanced understanding of existence.
In practice
During a lecture on ancient philosophy, you might use this quote to illustrate differing notions of existence.
Appearances are a glimpse of the unseen.
It is not I who have lost the Athenians, but the Athenians who have lost me.
Men would live exceedingly quiet if these two words, mine and thine, were taken away.
Everything has a natural explanation. The moon is not a god but a great rock and the sun a hot rock.
And since the portions of the great and the small are equal in number, so too all things would be in everything. Nor is it possible that they should exist apart, but all things have a portion of everything.
The descent into Hades is much the same from whatever place we start.
That however the brains and abilities of men may differ, their stomachs are essentially the same.
They still have negligent auditing, they still have things going for a walk, and they have no idea where they're coming from, and they have no idea where they're going. And if that's the case, how can we, as the public, trust the NSA with all of our information, with all of our private records, the permanent record of our lives?
We shall meet in the place where there is no darkness.
I prayed for the city to be cleared of people, for the gift of being alone—a-l-o-n-e: which is the one New York prayer that rarely gets lost or delayed in channels, and in no time at all everything I touched turned to solid loneliness.
My land is bare of chattering folk; / the clouds are low along the ridges, / and sweet's the air with curly smoke / from all my burning bridges.
Life - the way it really is - is a battle not between Bad and Good but between Bad and Worse.
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