1) For a long time I had been turning over in my mind many diverse things; for many days I had been diligently searching for myself and my own good, and for what evil should be avoided, when suddenly someone spoke to me. Whether it was I myself or someone else, whether it was outside of me or within me, I just don't know, no matter how hard I try to figure it out. This is what he said to me --

R(eason): Now look here: suppose you had discovered something; into whose care would you put it, so that you could get on with other things?

A(ugustine): To memory, certainly.

R: Oh? Is memory so great that it can accurately hold on to everything that has been conceived?

A: That is difficult to do; indeed, it is impossible.

R: Therefore it must be written down. But what do you do when your health will not let you write?¹ These things ought not to be dictated, for they need complete privacy. A: What you say is true. Indeed, I don't know what I would do.

R: Pray for good health and aid, so that you may accomplish what you desire; and put it in writing, so that your confidence may be increased by what you have done. Then briefly summarize your discovery in a few short conclusions. But you shouldn't bother about attracting a lot of readers: this will be enough for a few of your fellow citizens.

A: I will do just that.

2) God, founder of the universe, first grant to me that I might rightly beseech you; then let me act as one worthy of being heard, so that finally you might set me free.

You are God, through whom all things, which by themselves would not exist, strive to exist; God, who does not let even self-destructive things perish; God, who from nothing has made this world, which all eyes judge to be most beautiful; God, who does not make evil, and even prevents what is evil from becoming the worst evil; God, who reveals, to the few who take refuge in that which truly is, that evil is nothing; God,

because of whom the universe is perfect, even with its imperfections; God, because of whom even the most extreme dissonance no longer exists, since inferior things harmonize with the superior; God, who is loved by everything which is capable of loving, whether they do it knowingly or unknowingly; God, in whom are all things, but who is neither corrupted by the corruption of all creation, nor hurt by its evil, nor deceived by its error; God, who has wanted only the pure to know what is true.² You are God, father of truth, father of wisdom, father of true and complete life, father of blessedness, father of goodness and beauty, father of intelligible light, father of our awakening and enlightenment, father of the assurance which admonishes us to return to you.

3) I call upon you, God, Truth, in whom and by whom and through whom all true things are true; God, Wisdom, in whom and by whom and through whom all the wise are wise; God, true and complete Life, in whom and by whom and through whom lives all that is truly and completely alive; God, Blessedness, in whom and by whom and through whom all blessed things are blessed; God, Goodness and Beauty, in whom and by whom and through whom all good and beautiful things are good and beautiful; God, intelligible Light, in whom and by whom and through whom all things which give off intelligible light have intelligible light; God, whose realm is that entire world which perception does not know; God, from whose realm the law is transposed even on to these realms; God, from whom to turn away is to fall, to whom to turn towards is to rise again, in whom to remain is to stand firm; God, from whom to go away is to die, to whom to return is to be alive again, in whom to dwell is to live; God, whom no one loses unless deceived, whom no one seeks unless admonished, whom no one finds unless cleansed; God, whom to forsake is to perish, whom to follow is to love, whom to see is to have; God, to whom faith calls us, hope encourages us, love unites us; God, through whom we overcome the enemy, I entreat you.

God, through whom we receive, that we might not perish utterly; God, by whom we are admonished, so that we might be watchful; God, through whom we separate good from evil; God, through whom we avoid evil and pursue good; God, through whom we do not yield to misfortunes; God, through whom we rightly serve and rightly rule; God, through whom we learn that what we once considered ours, is in fact not our own, but what we once considered not our own, is in fact ours; God, through whom we do not hang on to the baits and lures of evil things; God, through whom petty things do not diminish us; God, through whom what is superior in us is not subjugated by what is inferior; God, through whom death is swallowed up in victory;³ God, who converts us; God, who strips off of us that which is not, and clothes us with that which is;⁴ God, who makes us able to be heard; God, who strengthens us;⁵ God, who leads us into every truth;⁶ God, who tells us all good things, and neither drives us mad, nor allows anyone else to do so; God, who calls us back to the way;⁷ God, who leads us to the door;⁸ God, who causes it to be opened for those who knock;⁹ God who gives us the bread of life;¹⁰ God, through whom we thirst for that drink which will make us thirst no more;¹¹ God, who shows to the world sin, justice, and judgment;¹² God, through whom we are not moved by those who do not believe; God, through whom we reject the error of those who think that souls are neither praised nor blamed by you; God, through whom we do not serve weak and destitute elements;¹³ God, who cleanses us and prepares us for divine rewards, gracious God, come to me.

4) In all that has been said by me, you are the one God; come now to my aid, you who are the one, eternal, true substance, in which there is no conflict, no confusion, no change, no want, no death; in which there is perfect harmony, perfect clarity, perfect stability, perfect abundance, perfect life; in which there is nothing lacking and nothing superfluous; in which the one who begets and the one who is begotten is one.¹⁴

God, who is served by everything which serves and who is submitted to by every good soul; God, by whose laws the axes revolve, the celestial bodies complete their courses, the sun rules the day, the moon governs the night, and the whole world (insofar as perceptible matter allows), maintains the great stability of things by the ordering and repetition of times, through the days by the alternation of light and darkness, through the months by the waxing and waning of the moon, through the years by the successions of spring, summer, fall, and winter, through the periods by the completion of the course of the sun, through the great cycles by return of the celestial bodies to their original places;¹⁵ God, by whose eternally established laws the irregular motion of changeable things is not allowed to be completely disordered, but is always called back to a semblance of stability by the restraints of the surrounding ages; God, by whose laws the soul has free will, and the rewards of the good and the punishments of the evil are assigned by a necessity which has been established for all; God, from whom all good things flow to us, and by whom all evil things are diverted from us; God, over whom there is nothing, outside of whom there is nothing, and without whom there is nothing; God, under whom is everything, in whom is everything, and with whom is everything; God, who has made humanity in your image and likeness,¹⁶ which anyone who has come to know himself recognizes: listen, listen, listen to me, my God, my lord, my king, my father, my cause, my hope, my treasure, my honor, my home, my country, my salvation, my life, listen, listen, listen to me in that way of yours known only to a few.

5) Now I love only you, I follow only you, I seek for only you, and I am ready to serve only you, because only you justly govern; I long to be under your rule. Command me, I beg you, and make any decree you wish, but heal and open my ears, so that I may hear your voice. Heal and open my eyes, so that I may see what is your will. Drive my madness from me, so that I may know you again. Tell me where I should look, so that I may see you; I hope to do all which you have commanded. Take back, I entreat you, your rebellious servant, my lord, most merciful father. By now I have suffered enough punishments, I have been enslaved long enough by your enemies, whom you have under your feet, I have been battered long enough by lies. Take back your servant as I flee from these things, even as they took me in as a foreign guest when I fled from you. I know I must return to you; let your door be open to my knocking;¹⁷ show me how to reach you. I have nothing except my will, I know nothing else except that the unstable and perishable should be shunned, while the sure and eternal should be pursued. I do this, father, because I know only this; but how to reach you, I do not know. Push me forward, show me the way, and give me provisions for the journey. If those who flee to you find you by faith, then give me faith; if by virtue, then give me virtue; if by knowledge, then give me knowledge. Give me more faith, more hope, more love.¹⁸ How astonishing and unique is your goodness!

6) I come to you for the very things whereby an approach can be made to you, so that I might beseech you again. For the one whom you abandon is lost forever. But you do not abandon anyone, for you are the perfect good, which no one has rightly searched for and not found. All those who rightly search for you, you have caused to search rightly for you. Make me, father, search for you, protect me from evil; and as I search, let there be nothing else for me other than you, I beg you, father. If there is in me a desire for anything that would weigh me down, rid me of it yourself and make me fit to see you. As for all that has to do with the health of my mortal body, since I do not know what is useful to me or my loved ones, I entrust it to you, wisest and best father, and I will only ask for it what you suggest at the time. I only pray for your most excellent mercy, so that you may convert me completely to you, allowing nothing to be in my way as I approach you; and as long as I possess and carry around this body, command me to be pure, generous, just, and prudent, a perfect lover and student of your wisdom, worthy of a home, even of a home in your most blessed realm. Amen, amen.

7) A: There, I have prayed to God.

R: What then do you wish to know?

A: All the things for which I prayed.

R: Summarize them briefly.

A: I want to know God and the soul.¹⁹

R: Nothing more?

A: Nothing whatsoever.

R: Then begin to search. But first explain how God could be shown to you, so that you would be able to say, "That's enough."

A: I don't know how God could be shown to me so that I would say, "That's enough." For I do not think that I know anything in the way that I wish to know God.

R: How then are we to proceed? Don't you think that first you should know how you could know God satisfactorily, so that when you reach that point you will not search more?

A: I do think so, but I don't see how it can be done. For what thing similar to God have I ever understood in such a way that I could say, "I want to understand God in the same way that I understand this"?

R: But you do not know God yet, so how do you know that you know nothing similar to God?

A: Because if I were to know something similar to God, without a doubt I would love it. But now I love nothing other than God and the soul, and I know neither of them. R: Then do you not love your friends?²⁰

A: How could I love the soul, but not love them?

R: Do you therefore love even fleas and bugs?

A: I said I love the soul, not everything that has a soul.²¹

R: Then either you do not have human beings for friends, or else you do not love them; for every human being is a creature with a soul, and you said that you do not love creatures with souls.

A: They are indeed human beings and I do love them, though not because they are creatures with souls, but because they are human, which is to say that they have rational souls, which I love even in criminals. For I can love reason in anyone, even though I justly hate the one who wrongly uses that which I love. And therefore I love my friends all the more, the more they use the rational soul well, or at least inasmuch as they wish to use it well.

8) R: I accept that. But nonetheless, if someone said to you, "I will make you know God in the same way that you know Alypius," wouldn't you thank him and say, "That's enough"?²²

A: I would indeed thank him, but I would not say that it was enough.

R: Why, I'd like to know?

A: Because I don't know God as well as I do Alypius, and even Alypius I do not know sufficiently.

R: Be careful: it may be impudent to want to know God sufficiently, when you don't even know Alypius sufficiently.

A: That does not follow. For in comparison to the celestial bodies, what is more worthless than my dinner? And yet I do not know what I will have for dinner tomorrow, but without impudence I claim to know in what sign the moon will be.

R: Therefore it is enough for you if you know God as you know in what sign the moon will run its course tomorrow?

A: That is not enough. For I believe in the latter based on the senses. But I don't know whether God or some hidden natural cause may suddenly alter the regularity and course of the moon. And if that happened, all my presuppositions would prove false.

R: And do you believe that this is possible?

A: I don't believe so. But I am searching for what I can know, not just what I can believe. For it is said, perhaps rightly, that we believe everything we know, but not that we know everything we believe.

R: Therefore you reject, in this case, all the evidence of the senses?

A: I reject it completely.²³

R: What about that friend of yours, whom you say you still don't know, do you wish to know him by sense or by the intellect?

A: What I know of him by sense, if indeed anything can be known by sense, is worthless, and I have had enough of it. But that part of him that makes him my friend, that is to say his soul, I want to grasp by the intellect.

R: Can it be known in any other way?

A: In no other way.

R: Then you dare to say that your friend and intimate acquaintance is unknown to you?

A: Why shouldn't I dare? For it is thought to be most just that the law of friendship commands that one love a friend neither less nor more than oneself. Therefore, since I do not know myself, how can it be held against me if I say that someone is unknown to me, especially when, as I believe, he doesn't know himself?

R: Then the things which you want to know are of the class of things which the intellect grasps; therefore, when I said that it was impudent of you to want to know God when you did not know Alypius, you should not have made the comparison of your dinner and the moon, if these, as you said, belong to the senses.

9) But that's not important. Now answer this: if the things which Plato and Plotinus said about God are true, is it enough for you to know God as they did?²⁴

A: It does not necessarily follow that if the things they said were true, then they knew them. For many people talk a lot about things they do not know, just as I said I wanted to know all the things for which I prayed; but I wouldn't want them, if I already knew them. Did that make me speak less about them? No, for I spoke not of the things which I understand with my intellect, but of those things which I had gathered from various places and entrusted to memory; I had as much faith in them as I could. But to know something, that is entirely different.

R: Tell me, please, do you at least know what a line is in geometry?

A: I know that clearly.

R: And in saying this you are not afraid of the Skeptics?²⁵

A: Not at all. For they say that a wise person cannot make a mistake, but I am not wise. Therefore I am not afraid to claim knowledge of the things I know. And if I fulfill my desire of reaching wisdom, I will do what it tells me.

R: I see nothing wrong in that. But what I had begun to ask was whether you know a ball, which is called a sphere, just as you know a line?

A: I do.

R: Do you know them both equally, or one more or less than the other?

A: Both equally. I make no mistakes in either case.

R: And did you perceive these by the senses or by the intellect?

A: In this case I have used the senses like a ship.²⁶ For when they had carried me to my destination and I had left them, and I was placed, as it were, on dry land, I began to turn these things over in my thoughts, but my steps were for a long time uncertain. So it seems to me that one could sail a ship on dry land more easily than one could perceive geometry by the senses, even though they do seem to help those who are first learning.

R: Then whatever instruction you have had in these things, you do not hesitate to call that knowledge?

A: No, if the Stoics would allow it, for they attribute knowledge to no one who is not wise. I do not deny that I have an understanding of these things, which they admit that even fools can have. But I am not afraid of them. So these things about which you asked, I say I possess them as knowledge. But proceed: I want to see why you are asking these questions.

R: Don't rush: we're in no hurry. Just pay close attention, so that you do not concede a point carelessly. I am eager to give you peace of mind about some things which from now on will give you no more trouble; do you still want me to hurry on, as if it were an insignificant matter?

A: May God make it as you have described it. Question me as you please and rebuke me more severely if I act that way again.

10) R: Therefore it is clear to you that splitting a line in two lengthwise is absolutely impossible?

A: That is clear.

R: What about crosswise?

A: It can be cut crosswise an infinite number of times.

R: What about a sphere? Is it equally clear that having cut a sphere through its center, there will be no two equal circles in either one of the halves?

A: That is equally clear.

R: So, do the line and the sphere seem to you to be one thing, or do they differ from one another in some way?

A: Who could not see that they differ in many ways?

R: But if you know both one and the other equally, and yet you admit that they differ from one another in many ways, then is there a single, undifferentiated knowledge of things that are different?

A: Who would say that there isn't?

R: You did, just a little while ago. For when I asked you how you want to know God so that you could say, "That's enough," you replied that you could not explain that, because you have never perceived anything in the way in which you wish to perceive God, for you know nothing that is like God. Well, what now? Are the line and the sphere alike?²⁷

A: Who would say that?

R: But I was not asking what things you know that are like God, but rather, what things you know as you wish to know God. For you know the line just as you know the sphere, even though the line and the sphere are very different. So tell me whether it would be enough for you to know God as you know this geometric sphere, so that you would have no uncertainty about God, just as you have none about the sphere.

11) A: Excuse me, but no matter how hard you push me and try to show me my error, I still do not dare to say that I wish to know God as I know these things. For it seems to me that not only the objects are different, but even the knowledge itself. First, the line and the sphere are not so different from one another, for one type of learning can contain them both. But no geometer has ever claimed to teach knowledge of God. Secondly, if the knowledge of God and of these things were the same, then knowing them would make me rejoice as much as I expect to rejoice in knowing God. But now in comparison to God I look down on these things so much that it sometimes seems to me that if I ever know and see God in the way in which God can be seen, then all these things will disappear from my thoughts; even now, because of my love for God, they hardly enter my mind.

R: You will indeed rejoice more, much more, in knowing God than in knowing these things, but it is the objects that differ, not the way of knowing them; unless you think that you look at the earth with one type of vision and at the clear sky with another, even though the sight of the latter is much more pleasing to you. But unless your eyes are deceived, I believe that if you were asked whether you see the earth as surely as you see the sky, you would have to answer that it is just as certain, even though you rejoice in the beauty and splendor of the sky, and not so much in the earth.

A: I must admit, that comparison persuades me and leads me to agree that as the earth differs from the sky, so too the true and certain proofs of the sciences differ from the intelligible majesty of God.

12) R: You are right to be persuaded. For Reason, who is speaking to you, promises to show to your mind just as the sun is shown to your eyes. For the senses of the soul are like the eyes of the mind;²⁸ those things which are most certain in the sciences are like the things illuminated by the sun so that they can be seen, such as the earth and everything on it. But now it is God himself who illuminates. I am Reason; I am to minds as sight is to the eyes. For having eyes is not the same as looking, and looking is not the same as seeing.²⁹ Therefore the soul needs three things: it must have eyes which it can use properly, then it must look, then it must see. To have healthy eyes is to have a mind cleansed of every stain of the body, that is, a mind purified and free from all the lusts for mortal things. And at first, nothing other than faith can give this. For if one's mind is corrupted and sickened by defects, then no one can show it that the mind cannot see unless it is healthy; and if the mind does not believe that otherwise it cannot see, then it will make no attempt to improve its health. But if it believes that the matter is as I have described it, and that when it can see it will see, nonetheless the mind despairs of ever being cured. Will it not then give up completely and despise itself, and not obey the doctor's orders?

A: That's certainly true, especially since the person who is ill must experience the treatment as harsh.

R: Therefore hope must be added to faith.

A: So I believe.

R: But if the mind believes that things are this way and hopes that it can be cured, but does not yet love nor desire the promised light, then it will think that it ought to be content with the darkness, which is pleasant because the mind is used to it. Won't the mind then still reject the doctor?

A: That it certainly so.

R: Therefore the third requirement is love.

A: There is nothing which is so necessary.³⁰

R: Therefore, without these three things no soul can be cured so that it can see, that is, understand its God.

13) And once it has healthy eyes, what else is required?

A: That it look.

R: The soul's vision is reason. But since it does not follow that looking always results in seeing, the right and perfect looking which results in seeing is called virtue; for virtue is right or perfect reason. But looking by itself cannot turn even healthy eyes towards the light, unless these three things remain: faith, by which one believes that the thing looked at will make one blessed when it is seen; hope, by which one expects to see, once one has looked well; love, by which one desires to see and to enjoy. After looking, one sees God, which therefore ends the looking, not because it no longer exists, but because it has nothing more towards which to strive. And this is truly perfect virtue, reason attaining its goal, which results in a blessed life. But the seeing itself is that understanding which is in the soul and which is brought about by the one who understands and that which is understood, just as what is called seeing in the eyes consists of sensing and what is sensed, and if either of these is missing, nothing can be seen.

14) Therefore, when the soul has seen God, that is, understood God, let us see whether these three things are still necessary. Why should faith be necessary, when one already sees? Or hope, when one already has the object? But as for love, not only will nothing be taken away from it, but even more will be added. For when the soul sees that unique and true beauty, it will love it more; but unless it will fix its eye with boundless love and not turn from looking, it will not be able to remain in that blessed vision. But as long as the soul is in the body, even if it can most fully see, that is, understand God, this is nevertheless the case: that since the senses of the body are operating normally, and although they cannot deceive, they do tend to be uncertain, and therefore faith can be called that by which the soul doubts the senses and believes something else to be true. Similarly, even though in this life the soul is blessed by its understanding of God,³¹ nevertheless it endures many bodily distractions, and therefore it needs the hope that all these troubles will not exist after death. Therefore hope does not abandon the soul in this life. But after this life, when the soul has brought itself completely to God, love will remain and hold it there. For it cannot be said to have faith that these things are true, when it is no longer bothered by any disturbance of falsehood; nor is there anything left to hope for, since it securely possesses everything. Therefore, three things are important to the soul: that it be healthy, that it look, and that it see. And another three, faith, hope, and love are always necessary for health and looking; as for seeing, in this life all three are necessary for it, but after this life only love is necessary.

15) Now understand, insofar as the present situation requires, something about God which I will now show you from a comparison with sensible things. For God is intelligible, as the observations of the sciences are intelligible; nevertheless they differ greatly. For both the earth and light are visible, but the earth cannot be seen unless it is illuminated by light. Likewise, those things which are taught by the sciences and which anyone with understanding unreservedly acknowledges as completely true cannot be understood unless they are illuminated by something like their own sun. For just as in the sun one can perceive three things - that it is, that it shines, and that it illuminates - so too in that most hidden God whom you wish to understand, there are three things - that he is, that he can be understood, and that he makes it possible to understand other things. I dare to teach you these two things, yourself and God, so that you may understand them. But tell me, how would you receive these, as probable or as true?

A: Certainly, only as probable, though I must confess that I had fostered a greater hope; for besides those two objects, the line and the sphere, there is nothing in what you have said which I would dare to say that I know.

R: That is not remarkable, for I have not yet explained anything enough that it would demand assent from you.

16) But why do we delay? We should be on our way. The first question before all others is to see whether we are healthy.

A: You will see the answer to that, if you can at all look into yourself or me. I will answer your questions, if I notice anything.

R: Do you love anything other than the knowledge of yourself and God?

A: I could answer that I love nothing else, if I followed my present feelings; but it would be more cautious for me to say that I do not know. For it has often happened to me that just when I thought nothing else could upset me, something nevertheless came into my mind which bothered me much more than I had anticipated. Likewise, although something may not have struck me at all when it entered my mind, yet when it really happened, it disturbed me more than I had expected. But right now it seems to me that I could be upset by only three things: fear of losing those whom I love, fear of pain, and fear of death.

R: Therefore you love living with your dearest friends, and your good health, and also your life itself in this body; for otherwise you would not fear losing these things.

A: I admit that is so.

R: Right now, therefore, since all your friends are not with you and your health is less than perfect, your soul must be a little troubled; I think that must be the result.

A: You're quite right; I can't deny it.

R: But what if you suddenly felt and were assured that you had bodily health, and you were to see all those whom you love peacefully enjoying ease and leisure, would it not bring you some joy?

A: Yes indeed, a certain amount; especially if, as you say, these things were to happen suddenly, how could I contain myself, how could I be allowed to hide that kind of delight?

R: So you would still be troubled by all the diseases and disturbances of the soul. Isn't it somewhat impudent, then, for such eyes to wish to see that sun?

A: You have concluded this as though I have not really improved my health, and do not know which of my ills have disappeared and which remain. You must admit that is true.

17) R: But don't you see that these bodily eyes, even when healthy, are often repelled and turned away from the light of this sun, fleeing back into their own darkness? But you're thinking of your progress, without thinking about what you wish to see; nevertheless, I will talk with you about this, about what progress you think we have made. Do you have no desire for riches?³²

A: No, and this is not the first time I've said so. For I am thirty-three years old, and it's been fourteen years since I stopped desiring riches. And if they happened to be offered to me, I only thought of them as providing for the necessities of life, and of their generous use. Just one book of Cicero easily persuaded me that riches are in no way to be pursued, and if they just happen to come along, they should be managed most wisely and cautiously.³³

R: What about honors?

A: I admit that only in these last few days have I stopped desiring them.³⁴

R: What about a wife? Wouldn't it be nice sometimes to have a beautiful, modest, compliant woman, one who is well-read or whom you could easily teach, one without too much of a dowry, because you hate riches, but with enough that she would not be bothersome to your leisure; wouldn't that be nice, especially if you hoped and were even sure that you would have no trouble from her?

A: However much you wish to embellish her and to pile on every good quality, I have decided that there is nothing I should avoid as much as sex. For I know of nothing that so debases a man's soul as the charms of a woman and that bodily contact which is so much a part of having a wife. Therefore - and this is not yet settled for me - if it is the duty of a wise man to take care of children, then anyone who has sex for this reason alone is seen by me as admirable, but certainly not to be imitated. For the danger in such an attempt is greater than the happiness to be gained by it. For this reason I believe it is fair, just, and useful for the freedom of my soul that I have commanded myself not to desire, not to seek, and not to marry a wife.³⁵

R: I am not now asking what you have decided, but whether you are still struggling with your lust, or whether you have truly defeated it. For this is about the health of your eyes.

A: I am not at all seeking anything of that kind, nor do I desire it; it is only with fear and contempt that I even recall it. What more do you want? And this good feeling grows stronger in me daily, for the more the hope increases of seeing that beauty which I so ardently long for, the more all my love and joy are turned towards it.

R: What about the pleasure of eating? How much is that worth to you?³⁶

A: Those things which I have decided not to eat do not disturb me at all. I admit that those things which I have not cut out do attract me when they are in front of me, but only in such a way that even if I had seen and tasted them, they could be taken away without any disturbance to my soul. And when they are not there, the appetite for them does not dare come as an interference into my thoughts. But in all this, you need not ask about food or drink or bathing or any other bodily pleasure: I seek to have just enough of them as can contribute to my health.

18) R: You have made much progress. Nevertheless, those things which remain can still very much hinder your seeing that light. What I am getting at - and it seems to me easily demonstrated - is that either nothing remains for us to overcome, or that we have made no progress at all, and all the rottenness of those things which we thought we had cut out, in fact remains. I ask you this: if you were convinced that you could not live with your many dear friends in pursuit of wisdom unless there was great wealth to provide for your regular needs, would you not want and wish for riches?

A: I would.

R: And what if it happened that you could convince many people to pursue wisdom, if only your prestige were increased by honors; and what if your friends could not control their desires and turn completely to seeking God unless they also were given honors, which would not be possible except through your honors and rank; would not these things then be desirable, and wouldn't you eagerly pursue acquiring them?

A: It is as you say.

R: I won't argue about a wife, for it may be that there is no necessity of marrying one. But what if it were certain that her great wealth could support all those whom you wish to have living peacefully with you in one place, while she herself would be in complete agreement with this; and what if she were so powerful because of her aristocratic family that through her you could easily get those honors which you have already conceded to be necessary; if all this were true, I'm not so sure that it would be your duty to despise all this, are you?

A: But how could I dare to hope for all that?

19) R: You talk as if I were now asking about what you hope for. I am not asking about what does not give you pleasure when it is absent, but about what does give you pleasure when it is available. For it is one thing for a disease to be eradicated, and quite another for it merely to be in remission. In regards to this, it is worth noting what some learned men have said: all fools are mad, just as all filth smells bad, although you do not notice it all the time, but only when you stir it up.³⁷ There is a great difference between burying a desire because of the soul's desperation, and really driving it out with good health.

A: Although I cannot answer you, you still will never persuade me to believe that I have made no progress, when I know in what kind of mental state I now am.

R: I believe it seems this way to you because, although you might want these things, they nevertheless seem desirable not for their own sakes, but for the sake of something else.

A: That is what I wanted to say. For when I used to desire riches, I desired them just in order to be rich; and those honors, the longing for which I said that I have only recently subdued, I wanted them because I was delighted by a certain brilliance about them; and when I was looking for a wife, I never looked for anything other than that she would bring me pleasure and good repute. At that time there was a real desire in me for these things, but now I despise them all. But if it is only through these things that I can find a way to the things which I now want, then I pursue them not as things to be embraced, but I submit to them as things to be endured.

R: Very well, for I do not think it can be called a desire, if the things are only wanted for the sake of something else.

20) But I ask you, why do you want those people whom you love to live, or more specifically, to live with you?

A: So that together and in complete agreement we can search for ourselves and God. For in that way, whoever first makes a discovery can easily lead the others to it without difficulty.

R: But what if they do not want to search for these things?

A: I will convince them, so that they will want to.

R: But what if you are unable to do that, either because they have decided that these things are already found, or are impossible to find, or because they are hindered by cares and desires for other things?

A: I will teach them, and they me, as much as we can.³⁸

R: But what if their very presence keeps you from your search? Won't this trouble you, and if they cannot change, make you wish that they were not with you, rather than be like this?

A: I admit, it is as you say.

R: Therefore you do not desire their life or their presence for its own sake, but only in order to find wisdom?

A: I agree completely.

R: What if you were certain that your life itself was keeping you from reaching wisdom, would you wish it to continue?

A: I would flee from it in every way.

R: What if you were shown that you could arrive at wisdom, whether you left this body or remained in it, would you then care whether it were in this life or another that you obtained the object of you love?

A: As long as I knew that I would experience nothing worse which would drive me back from the point to which I have come, I would not care.

R: Therefore you now fear death, because you might be taken by a worse evil, which would deprive you of knowledge of the divine?

A: Not only do I fear that I would be deprived of what I might have learned already, but that I would be hindered from approaching those things which I still long to learn; but I do believe that what I now know will remain with me.

R: Therefore, you wish this life to continue, not for its own sake, but for the sake of wisdom?

A: That is so.

21) R: There remains bodily pain, which might disturb you with its power.

A: I dread that a great deal, though not in itself, but because it might keep me from my search. For the past few days I have been tormented by a most piercing toothache,³⁹ such that I contemplate in my mind nothing except what I had already learned; I was completely prevented from learning anything, because that requires total concentration of the mind. Nevertheless, it seemed to me that if the light of truth had been revealed to my mind, I either would not have felt that pain, or would have endured it as if it were nothing. And although I myself have never suffered anything worse, nevertheless I often think of how many worse things could happen, so that I am forced sometimes to agree with Cornelius Celsus,⁴⁰ who says that the greatest good is wisdom, and the greatest evil is bodily pain. Nor does his reasoning seem ridiculous to me. For he says, "We are composed of two parts, soul and body; the first is the better, while the body is the inferior; so the greatest good is what is best in the superior part, while the greatest evil is what is worst in the inferior part. Wisdom is the best thing in the soul, while pain is the worst thing in the body." So it may be concluded without error, I think, that the greatest human good is to be wise, and the greatest evil is to feel pain.

R: We'll see about that later. For perhaps the wisdom which we are trying to find will convince us otherwise. But if wisdom will show that this is true, then we will hold on to this definition of the greatest good and the greatest evil without any doubt.

22) Now let us ask about what sort of lover of wisdom you are: you long to see and to hold her, with a most pure gaze and in an embrace that has no veil in between, naked as it were, in a way that she allows to only a few and most select of her lovers. Now if you burned with love for some beautiful woman, wouldn't she be right not to give herself to you, if she found that you loved something besides her? So how can the purest beauty of wisdom show herself to you, unless you are ablaze for her alone?

A: Why am I held back by this unhappiness and delayed by this miserable torment? Surely I have shown that I love nothing else, for anything which is not loved for its own sake is not really loved. I love only wisdom for her own sake, and only for her sake do I want to have, and fear losing, other things, such as life, peace, friends. How can my love of that beauty have a limit? Not only do I not begrudge her to others, but I even seek many more who will pursue her with me, long for her with me, grasp her with me, and enjoy her with me, and they will be my friends even more, the more the love of her is shared among us.

23) R: That is just how lovers of wisdom ought to be. She seeks such lovers, whose union with her is completely pure and without any defilement. But there is not just one way to her.⁴¹ Indeed, each one seizes that unique and truest good, according to his or her own strength. It is a mental light, indescribable and incomprehensible. The ordinary light shows, as much as it can, what that other one is like. For some eyes are so healthy and vigorous that as soon as they open, they turn towards the sun itself without any fear. For these, light itself is health,⁴² and they do not need a teacher, but only perhaps some guidance. For these, believing, hoping, and loving are enough. But there are others who fervently wish to see the light, but are o struck by its brilliance that they often turn back with gladness to the darkness without having seen the light. Even though they can rightly be called healthy, it is dangerous to wish to show them what they cannot yet see. Therefore they must be trained first, and for their own good their love must be directed and directed and nurtured. First they should be shown things which do not have their own light, but which can be seen by light, such as a cloth or a wall or something like that. Then there are those things which do not shine by themselves, although they sparkle more beautifully in that light, such as gold, silver, and the like, but which do not shine so much as to hurt the eyes. Then perhaps this earthly fire can be shown to them, then the stars, then the moon, then the brilliance of the dawn and the radiance of the brightening sky. Whether one does it quickly or slowly, going through all the stages or omitting some, growing accustomed to them according to his or her own strength, it is through these things that one will see the sun without fear and with great joy. The best teachers do something like this with those who are most eager for wisdom, those who can see, though not yet clearly. For it is the duty of good teaching to reach it in an orderly manner; without order it would be a barely believable stroke of good luck.

But we've written enough for one day, I think; stopping now is for our health.

24) (On the next day) A: I ask you, please give me that order, if you can now. Lead me, direct me, wherever you wish, by whatever means you wish, however you wish. Give me whatever difficult and strenuous tasks you like, as long as they are within my power, through which I may without doubt attain what I desire.

R: I can give you only one piece of advice, I don't know any more: these things of the senses must be completely cast off.⁴³ We must take great care, as long as we are in this body, that our wings do not become mired in the things of the senses, for we need complete and perfect wings to fly to that light from this darkness. That light does not deign to reveal itself to those trapped in this prison, unless they are able to break out of the prison and destroy it, and escape to their own higher places. So when you have become such a person that no earthly thing at all gives you pleasure, believe me, at that moment, at that exact point in time, you will see what you desire.

A: But when will that be, I ask you? For I do not think that these things can become completely worthless to me, unless I see that thing in comparison to which these things are base.

25) R: If that's the case, then the eye of this body could say, "Only when I have seen the sun will I not love the darkness." This might also seem to be in agreement with order, but it is far from it. The eye loves the darkness because it is not healthy; it cannot see the sun unless it is healthy. The soul is often mistaken in this way, thinking and claiming that it is healthy; and since it cannot see, the soul even thinks it right to complain. But that beauty knows when to reveal itself. It acts as a physician, knowing better who are the healthy ones than do those who are themselves being treated. We think we can see how far we have come; but we neither know nor feel how deeply we were immersed or what progress we have made. Therefore, in comparison with a worse disease we think ourselves healthy. Don't you know how confidently yesterday we declared ourselves free of any affliction, lovers only of wisdom, seeking and desiring other things only for its sake? A woman's embrace seemed to you so base, so foul, so despicable, so disgusting, when we inquired into the desire for a wife. But that night, lying awake and going back over those things,⁴⁴ you realized that those imagined charms and bitter sweetness excited you much differently than you had anticipated; much, much less than usual, but also much differently than you had thought. That most hidden physician showed you both what you had escaped by his treatment, as well as what remains to be treated.

26) A: Be silent, I beg you, be silent. Why do you torment me? Why do you probe and pierce so deeply? Now I cannot keep from crying; from now on I will promise nothing, I will take nothing for granted, only do not ask me about these things. You say that the one whom I long to see will know when I am healthy. Let him do what he pleases; when it pleases him, let him reveal himself. I now give myself entirely to his mercy and care. I have always believed that he does not hesitate to help those who are turned towards him. Until I see that beauty, I will say nothing about my health.

R: Do nothing other than that. But now stop your tears and compose yourself. You have certainly cried a great deal, and that surely worsens your chest-illness.

A: You wish my tears to end, when I can see no end to my misery? Or do you command me to take care of my bodily health, when my inmost health is wasting away with disease? But I beg you, if you have some power over me, try to lead me through whatever shortcuts you can. Through nearness to that light (which I can bear if I have made some progress), I will be ashamed to turn my eyes back to that darkness which I have abandoned (if indeed it can be called abandoned when it still tries to charm my blindness).

27) R: Let us finish this first book, if you please, so that we may begin the second in an appropriate way. For given your condition, you should not stop working with moderation.

A: There is no way I will let this book be completed, unless you show me something about the nearness of the light towards which I am striving.

R: That physician bears with you. I do not know what beam guides and urges me on to where I am leading you, so listen carefully.

A: Lead me, I beg you, and hurry on to wherever you wish.

R: You say with certainty that you wish to know God and the soul?

A: That is my only concern.

R: Nothing more?

A: Nothing whatsoever.

R: Don't you want to understand the truth?

A: I could not know these things exept by means of it.

R: Therefore it must first be known, and through it those other things can be known.

A: I agree completely.

R: Let us first see this: "truth" and "true" are two words; does it therefore seem to you that two things are signified by these words, or just one?

A: They seem to be two things. For just as "chastity" is one thing and "chaste" another (and there many other examples like this), so I think that "truth" is one thing and what is called "true" is another.

R: Which of them do you think is better?

A: Truth, I think. For just as chastity does not exist because someone is chaste, but rather someone is chaste because of chastity, likewise, if something is true, it is true because of truth.

28) R: If some chaste person dies, do you think that chastity also dies?

A: In no way.

R: Therefore, when something true disappears, truth does not disappear.

A: How could something true disappear? I don't see that.

R: I wonder how you could ask that. Don't we see thousands of things disappear before our eyes? Perhaps you think that this tree is a tree, but not a true tree, or that it cannot possibly disappear? For even if you did not believe the senses and could answer that you do not know whether it is really a tree, nevertheless you will not, I think, deny that if it is indeed a tree, it is a true tree. For this is a judgment of intellect, not of sense. If it is a false tree, then it is not a tree; but if it is a tree, it must be a true one.

A: I grant that.

R: Now what about this: do you not grant that a tree is of that class of things that come into being and then disppear?

A: I cannot deny that.

R: Then it must be concluded that something which is true can disappear.

A: I cannot contradict that.

R: So doesn't it seem to you that truth does not disappear when true things disappear, just as chastity does not die when a chaste person dies?

A: I grant that now, and eagerly await your next conclusion.

R: Then pay attention.

A: I am.

29) R: Does this statement seem true to you: "Anything which exists must exist somewhere"?

A: Nothing demands my agreement more than that.

R: You admit that there is truth?

A: I do.

R: Therefore we must ask where it is. For it is not in space, unless perhaps you think that something other than a body exists in space, or that truth is a body.

A: I believe neither of those things.

R: Then where do you think it is? For if we think that it exists, it cannot be nowhere.

A: If I knew where it is, perhaps I would not ask anything further.

R: Can you at least know where it is not?

A: If you remind me, perhaps I can.

R: It is certainly not in mortal things. For whatever is in something cannot endure if what it is in does not endure. But it has just been granted that truth endures even when true things disappear. Therefore truth is not in mortal things. But truth exists, and cannot be nowhere. Therefore there are immortal things. But nothing is true in which there is not truth. It is settled then that there are no true things except those which are immortal. A false tree is not a tree, false wood is not wood, false silver is not silver, and anything at all which is false does not exist. But everything which is not true is false. Therefore nothing can rightly be said to exist except immortal things. Carefully go over this little bit of reasoning, to make sure there is nothing to which you cannot assent. For if it is settled, then we have nearly finished the entire task, as may become more clear in the next book.

30) A: I thank you. I will go over these things attentively and carefully with myself and with you when we are at rest, if only that darkness does not come upon me and inflict me with its pleasures, which I dread so much.

R: Resolutely believe in God, and give yourself completely to him, as far as you can. Do not wish to be, as it were, your own self and under your own authority, but declare yourself the slave of the most merciful and beneficent Lord. For then he will not hesitate to raise you up to himself, and will let nothing happen to you unless it is for your own good, even though you do not know it.

A: I hear, I believe, and as far as I can, I obey; I pray to him as much as I can, so that I may do as much as I can. Or do you want anything more from me?

R: That's enough for now. Later, at the sight of God himself, you will do whatever he commands.

¹ Augustine mentions an illness of the chest later in the Soliloquies (1,26) and elsewhere (Conf. 9,4; CA 1,3; BV 4; de Ord. 1,5), as well as a toothache (see below, 1,21; also Conf. 9,12). ² The assertion that only the pure (of heart) can know the truth is later retracted by Augustine (Retr. 4,2).

³ I Cor 15:54.

⁴ Cf. I Cor 15:53-54.

⁵ Reading munis.

⁶ Jn 16:13.

⁷ Cf. Mt 7:13-14; Jn 14:3-7.

⁸ Cf. Lk 13:24; Jn 10:7-9.

⁹ Mt 7:8.

¹⁰ Jn 6:35, 48.

¹¹ Jn 4:13-15; 6:35.

¹² Cf. Jn 16:8-11.

¹³ Gal 4:9.

¹⁴ Augustine himself later corrects this phrase to "are" one (Retr. 4,3). Cf. Jn 10:30; 17:11, 21-23.

¹⁵ Augustine here seems to be distinguishing between three definitions of "year": 1) a year as defined by the return of the sun to its original place on the ecliptic, which thus defines the seasons by its return to the equinoxes and solstices; 2) the slightly longer period of time it takes the sun to return to its original position in reference to the fixed stars (see Ptolemy, Almagest, III.1); and 3) the Great Year, when the sun and all the celestial bodies will once again be at their original positions, both in reference to the ecliptic and to the fixed stars (see Plato, Republic, VIII.546; Timaeus, 39d). This Great Year was often calculated as 36,000 years (Ptolemy, Almagest, VII.2,3, following Hipparchus' data.)

¹⁶ Gen 1:27.

¹⁷ Mt 7:8; see 1,3 above.

¹⁸ I Cor 13:13; cf. below, 1,12.

¹⁹ Cf. de Ord. 2,47.

²⁰ On Augustine and his (many) friends, see below, 1,16; 1,20; 1,22; also CA 3,13; Conf. 4,11-18; CD 19,8; de Doc. Chr. 1,29; Ep. 92; Ep. 130,13; Ep. 192,1; and Ep. 258.

²¹ The anima - animal wordplay in this exchange is difficult to convey in translation.

²² On Augustine's friend Alypius, see Conf. 6,11-16 and 8,27-30.

²³ On the (un)reliability of the senses, see below, 1,24; also de Ord. 1,3; CA 3,26; de Trin. 15,21; Retr. 3,2.

²⁴ On Augustine's opinion of the Platonists, see Conf. 7,26; CD 8,4-9 and 11,5; CA 3,37-43; BV 4.

²⁵ On Augustine's earlier involvement with the Skeptics, see Conf. 5,19 and 5,25; BV 4.

²⁶ On the ship/sailing metaphor, see BV 1-5.

²⁷ Omitting deo.

²⁸ Reading nam mentis quasi sui sunt oculi sensus animae.

²⁹ Cf. Is 6:9-10; Mt 13:10-17; Mk 4:10-12; Lk 8:9-10.

³⁰ I Cor 13:13.

³¹ Augustine later limits this blessedness (Retr. 4,3).

³² On Augustine's opinion of the pursuit of wealth, see Conf. 6,9; CA 1,1.

³³ The book was Cicero's Hortensius, no longer extant; see Conf. 3,7-8; BV 4; CA 1,4.

³⁴ On Augustine's long fascination with honors and women, see BV 4.

³⁵ See Conf. 6,19-23.

³⁶ Cf. Conf. 10,44.

³⁷ See Cicero, Tusculanae Disputationes 4,54.

³⁸ Reading docebo.

³⁹ See above, 1,1; also Conf. 9,12.

⁴⁰ A first century C.E. Roman encyclopedist; also mentioned by Augustine in the preface to De Haeresibus.

⁴¹ A comment later regretted by Augustine (Retr. 4,3).

⁴² Reading lux sanitas.

⁴³ Cf. Retr. 4,3; CD 22,26.

⁴⁴ Cf. de Ord. 1,6.