A Life without criticism and status is not a worth living. - Socrates

...[I]f at the time of its release the soul is tainted and impure, because it has always associated with the body and cared for it and loved it, and has been so beguiled by the body and its passions and pleasures that nothing seems real to it but those physical things which can be touched and seen and eaten and drunk and used for sexual enjoyment; and if it is accustomed to hate and fear and avoid what is invisible and hidden from our eyes, but intelligible and comprehensible by philosophy - if the soul is in this state, do you think that it will escape independent and uncontaminated?

Would that the majority could inflict the greatest evils, for they would then be capable of the greatest good, and that would be fine, but now they cannot do either. They cannot make a man either wise or foolish, but they inflict things haphazardly.

Pues bien, cuando alguien se da a la
música y deja que le inunde el alma derramando por sus oídos, como por un canal, aquellas
dulces, suaves y lastimeras armonías de que
hablábamos hace poco y pasa su vida entera
entre gorjeos y goces musicales, esta persona
comienza por templar, como el fuego al hierro,
la fogosidad que pueda albergar su espíritu y
hacerla útil de dura e inservible. Pero si persiste
y no cesa de entregarse a su hechizo, entonces
ya no hará otra cosa que liquidar y ablandar
ésta su fogosidad hasta que, derretida ya por
completo, cortados, por así decirlo, los tendones del alma, la persona se transforma en un
«feble guerrero»