Timaeus (Dialogue)

The Timaeus (/taɪˈmiːəs/; Ancient Greek: Τίμαιος, romanized: Timaios, pronounced [tǐːmai̯os]) is one of Plato's dialogues, penned around 360 BC. It's a rather ambitious undertaking, primarily presented through the extensive, almost exhaustive, monologues delivered by Critias and Timaeus himself. The work purports to offer a reasoned, if occasionally bewildering, exploration into the fundamental nature of the physical cosmos and the intricate constitution of human beings. It serves as a precursor, a philosophical warm-up act, to the subsequent dialogue, Critias, which promises to delve further into the tales hinted at within this text.

The roster of participants in this particular dialogue includes the perpetually inquisitive Socrates, the titular Timaeus, the statesman Hermocrates, and the Athenian oligarch Critias. A recurring point of scholarly contention, and frankly, a rather dull one, revolves around the identity of the Critias present in this philosophical exchange. Some academics stubbornly insist that it cannot be the notorious Critias of the Thirty Tyrants, but rather his grandfather, who also bore the same rather common name. One wonders if the distinction truly alters the cosmic implications of the text, but humans do love their footnotes. The dialogue commences with a brief lament over the absence of an unnamed fifth participant, who was apparently present the preceding day. This minor detail, left tantalizingly unresolved, seems designed to pique a curiosity that few modern readers possess. Furthermore, ancient traditions, relayed by Diogenes Laertius (VIII 85) drawing from Hermippus of Smyrna (3rd century BC) and Timon of Phlius (c. 320 – c. 235 BC), suggested that the ideas presented by Timaeus were heavily influenced by a work concerning Pythagoras, authored by Philolaus. However, this assertion, like many intriguing historical tidbits, is generally—and perhaps rightly—dismissed as unsubstantiated. Some stories are just too neat to be true.

Introduction

The dialogue unfolds the day after Socrates, in his characteristic fashion, has meticulously outlined his vision of an ideal state. For those keeping track, this foundational discussion is thoroughly documented in Plato's monumental work, The Republic. Socrates, ever the purist, expresses a certain dissatisfaction, lamenting that his grand description of this perfect polity lacked sufficient narrative flair for mere "entertainment." He confesses, with a touch of the dramatic, that "I would be glad to hear some account of it engaging in transactions with other states" (19b). Apparently, even the most profound philosophical constructions need a good plot twist.

Athanasius Kircher's map of Atlantis from Mundus Subterraneus ("The Subterranean World") (1669), drawn with south at the top.

Hermocrates, ever the agreeable interlocutor, readily assures Socrates that Critias possesses precisely the kind of historical narrative (20b) that would satisfy this rather specific craving for intellectual diversion. Critias, seizing the opportunity, then embarks upon the famed tale of Solon's journey to Egypt. It is in the ancient city of Sais, amidst the wisdom of Egyptian priests, that Solon purportedly encountered the legendary account of Atlantis. This narrative recounts how Athens, in a bygone era, functioned as an exemplary ideal state, one that courageously engaged in a formidable conflict against the formidable forces of Atlantis itself (25a). Critias, perhaps sensing he is overplaying his hand or simply adhering to a pre-arranged narrative structure, then interjects, suggesting he might be getting ahead of himself. He thus introduces Timaeus, who, with visible gravitas, is tasked with recounting a more fundamental segment of the story: the very origin of the universe and, subsequently, of mankind.

Critias further enriches the preamble by referencing the profound insights gleaned from the Egyptian priest in Sais,_Egypt, who offered a rather bleak, yet cyclical, perspective on the long-term factors governing the destiny of humanity:

"There have been, and will be again, many destructions of mankind arising out of many causes; the greatest have been brought about by the agencies of fire and water, and other lesser ones by innumerable other causes. There is a story that even you [Greeks] have preserved, that once upon a time, Phaethon, the son of Helios, having yoked the steeds in his father's chariot, because he was not able to drive them in the path of his father, burnt up all that was upon the earth, and was himself destroyed by a thunderbolt. Now this has the form of a myth, but really signifies a declination of the bodies moving in the heavens around the earth, and a great conflagration of things upon the earth, which recurs after long intervals." (5)

This rather sobering reflection on cosmic cycles of destruction and renewal, attributed to the wisdom of the Egyptians, sets a suitably grand, if somewhat fatalistic, stage for Timaeus's discourse. The intricate history of Atlantis itself, a narrative undoubtedly overflowing with the kind of "entertainment" Socrates desired, is, for the moment, deferred and reserved for the subsequent dialogue, Critias. What follows instead is the main intellectual thrust of the dialogue: the detailed exposition presented by Timaeus, a man clearly burdened with the task of explaining the universe.

Synopsis of Timaeus' account

Greek manuscript of Timaeus (Codex Parisinus graecus 1807), c. AD 900

Nature of the physical world

Plato is depicted in Raphael's The School of Athens fresco in the Vatican, anachronistically carrying a bound copy of Timaeus. This visual anachronism, where Plato is shown clutching a text that would have been a scroll in his time, is a rather charming, if historically inaccurate, testament to the enduring reverence for this particular dialogue. It suggests that even in the Renaissance, artists found it necessary to make Plato directly accessible, perhaps because the original form was simply too inconvenient.

The Eternal Essence corresponds to the intelligible world, The Perishable Essence is the realm of sensory experience, where all things are subject to generation and decay. The Intermediate Essence acts as a bridge between these two, harmonizing the cosmos through the World Soul (ψυχὴ τοῦ κόσμου).

Timaeus commences his formidable task by establishing a fundamental distinction between two realms of existence: the ephemeral physical world and the steadfast, eternal world. The physical realm, as he rather pointedly observes, is characterized by its constant flux, its inevitable changes, and its ultimate decay. Consequently, it is an object suitable only for fleeting opinion and the often-misleading impressions of unreasoned sensation. In stark contrast, the eternal world remains perpetually immutable, untouched by the ravages of time or the whims of perception. It is, therefore, the exclusive domain of pure reason (28a), apprehended solely through intellectual insight, a concept far too demanding for most.

The very nature of the discourse, Timaeus warns, is constrained by the disparate qualities of its subjects. A description pertaining to "what is changeless, fixed and clearly intelligible will be changeless and fixed," reflecting the unwavering certainty of its subject matter (29b). Conversely, any account of the mutable, the transient, or the merely "likely" will inherently possess the same shifting, probabilistic character. As he succinctly puts it, "As being is to becoming, so is truth to belief" (29c). This serves as a rather convenient disclaimer: when discussing the physical world, one "should not look for anything more than a likely story" (29d). A polite way of saying, "don't expect absolute certainty when dealing with things that are inherently uncertain."

Given that nothing "becomes or changes" without an underlying cause – a rather fundamental, if often overlooked, principle – Timaeus posits that the ultimate cause of the universe must be a divine artificer, a cosmic craftsman. He introduces this figure as a demiurge, a god, whom he reverently refers to as the "father and maker of the universe." And since the universe, despite its imperfections, undeniably exhibits a certain beauty and order, the demiurge, in his act of creation, must have gazed upon an eternal, perfect model, rather than relying on any perishable, flawed blueprint (29a). Thus, utilizing the unchanging and perfect realm of "forms" or ideals as his immutable template, this divine artisan set about sculpting our world, which, prior to his intervention, existed in a state of chaotic disarray, a primordial mess awaiting divine imposition of order.

Purpose of the universe

Timaeus continues his cosmic narrative with an exposition on the grand design behind the creation of the universe, attributing its very existence to the meticulous handiwork of this divine craftsman. The demiurge, being inherently good – a rather generous assumption, perhaps – desired that the world should embody as much goodness as was conceivable. This divine benevolence, therefore, served as the primary impetus for creation. The demiurge is depicted as bringing order out of a formless substance by carefully imitating an unchanging and eternal model, a perfect paradigm. Ananke, often translated as 'Necessity,' is presented as the only other co-existent element or presence within Plato's intricate cosmogony. This 'Necessity' acts as a kind of raw, unyielding material principle that the demiurge must work with and persuade, rather than create outright. Later Platonists, in their tireless efforts to clarify Plato's often elliptical pronouncements, would further elaborate that this eternal model, this perfect blueprint, resided not in some external realm alone, but critically, within the very mind of the demiurge himself. A subtle, yet significant, shift from external ideal to internal divine thought.

Properties of the universe

Timaeus delves further, describing the primordial substance as being utterly devoid of homogeneity or balance, a chaotic swirl in which the four elements – earth, air, fire, and water – existed in a perpetual state of shapelessness, intermixture, and restless, unceasing motion. Given the self-evident philosophical preference for order over disorder, the quintessential act of the creator was to impose structure, coherence, and clarity upon this otherwise formless substance. Consequently, all the discernible properties of the world, from the grandest celestial movements to the most minute terrestrial phenomena, are to be understood as direct consequences of the demiurge's deliberate choices, guided by what he deemed fair and good. This establishes a foundational dichotomy in Plato's thought, a cosmic opposition between good and evil, where the former is actively instantiated by divine intelligence.

Crucially, the world itself is conceived as a living creature. Timaeus reasons that unintelligent beings are, by their very nature, less beautiful and less perfect than intelligent ones. Furthermore, intelligence, to truly manifest, requires a suitable vessel—a soul. Therefore, the demiurge, in his pursuit of ultimate goodness and perfection, "put intelligence in soul, and soul in body" in order to fashion a living, intelligent, and complete whole. "Wherefore, using the language of probability, we may say that the world became a living creature truly endowed with soul and intelligence by the providence of God" (30a–b). This concept of the cosmos as a vast, intelligent organism, a macrocosm reflecting the microcosm of man, is a cornerstone of Platonic thought.

Following this, Timaeus argues that since any part is inherently imperfect when compared to the magnificent entirety, the world, to achieve true perfection, had to be singular and unique. Thus, the demiurge, rather than creating a multitude of imperfect worlds, fashioned a single unique world (31b). This singularity is further reinforced by the idea that the demiurge desired his creation to be a flawless imitation of the Eternal "One," the ultimate source from which all other emanations derive. To create more than one world would have been redundant, a dilution of perfection.

The creator, with an eye for harmonious design, also chose to construct the perceptible body of the universe from the aforementioned four elements, precisely to ensure its inherent proportion and balance. Indeed, beyond the necessity of fire and earth, which respectively render bodies visible and solid, a third element was indispensable as a mediating bond: "two things cannot be rightly put together without a third; there must be some bond of union between them." Moreover, recognizing that the world was not a mere two-dimensional surface but a three-dimensional solid, a fourth mean was required to achieve perfect harmony and cohesion. Thus, the creator strategically placed water and air between fire and earth, forging a complete and balanced cosmic structure. "And for these reasons, and out of such elements which are in number four, the body of the world was created, and it was harmonised by proportion" (31–33). A rather elegant, if somewhat simplistic, ancient physics.

As for its geometric configuration, the demiurge meticulously fashioned the world in the form of a perfect globe. The spherical figure, Timaeus asserts, is demonstrably the most perfect of all shapes, primarily because it encompasses or averages all other figures, representing the most omnimorphic and self-similar form imaginable. "He [the demiurge] considered that the like is infinitely fairer than the unlike" (33b), a clear preference for symmetry and completeness.

The creator then bestowed upon the world a continuous rotatory or circular movement, which is deemed "most appropriate to mind and intelligence" (34a) due to its unparalleled uniformity and eternal, self-contained nature. This perpetual, circular motion is a reflection of the unceasing, perfect activity of divine reason.

Finally, having constructed the physical vessel, the demiurge proceeded to create the profound soul of the world. He meticulously placed this soul at the very center of the world's body and then diffused it outward, extending its essence in every conceivable direction, allowing the invisible soul to fully envelop and animate the visible cosmic body. Having been thus perfectly fashioned as a self-sufficient, intelligent, and harmonious entity, the world, in its entirety, is elevated to the status of a god (34b). One might argue this is a rather convenient justification for its enduring existence.

The creation of the world-soul

Timaeus then embarks on an explanation of the intricate process by which the soul of the world was brought into being. Plato's subsequent discussion here is notoriously obscure, a passage that scholars generally agree was almost certainly intended to be deciphered in light of the complex philosophical arguments presented in the Sophist. One can almost hear Emma sighing at the gratuitous complexity. The demiurge, in his profound act of creation, meticulously combined three fundamental elements: two distinct varieties of Sameness (one intrinsically indivisible and another divisible, capable of partaking in corporeal existence), two corresponding varieties of Difference (again, one indivisible and another divisible), and finally, two types of Being, or Existence (once more, an indivisible and a divisible form). From this elaborate admixture, three compound substances emerged: an intermediate (or mixed) Being, an intermediate Sameness, and an intermediate Difference. These three intermediate substances were then compounded together to yield one final, singular substance: the world-soul itself.

As the text elucidates: "The components from which he made the soul and the way in which he made it were as follows: In between the Being that is indivisible and always changeless, and the one that is divisible and comes to be in the corporeal realm, he mixed a third, intermediate form of being, derived from the other two. Similarly, he made a mixture of the Same, and then one of the Different, in between their indivisible and their corporeal, divisible counterparts. And he took the three mixtures and mixed them together to make a uniform mixture, forcing the Different, which was hard to mix, into conformity with the Same. Now when he had mixed these two with Being, and from the three had made a single mixture, he redivided the whole mixture into as many parts as his task required, each part remaining a mixture of the Same, the Different and Being." (35a-b, translation Donald J. Zeyl).

Following this initial synthesis, the demiurge proceeded to divide this unified mixture according to precise mathematical proportions. He then cut the compound substance lengthwise, fixing the resulting two bands at their respective middles, much like the intersecting strokes of the Greek letter chi (Χ). These bands were then connected at their ends, forming two distinct, crossing circles. Upon these circles, the demiurge imparted a continuous circular movement along their axes: the outer circle was assigned the principle of Sameness and rotated horizontally to the right, while the inner circle was assigned to Difference and revolved diagonally and to the left (34c–36c).

The demiurge, in his sagacious design, granted primacy to the motion of Sameness, leaving it undivided, a testament to its fundamental, unifying nature. However, he divided the motion of Difference into six distinct parts, thereby creating seven unequal circles. He then prescribed that these circles should move in opposing directions: three of them maintained equal speeds, while the remaining four moved at unequal speeds, though always maintaining a precise, harmonious proportion. These seven circles correspond to the observed orbits of the heavenly bodies known to the ancients: the three moving at equal speeds are identified as the Sun, Venus, and Mercury, while the four moving at unequal speeds represent the Moon, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn (36c–d). The intricate, yet ultimately predictable, pattern of these celestial movements is destined to repeat itself after a vast temporal cycle, a period known as a 'complete' or 'perfect' year (39d).

Finally, the demiurge seamlessly connected the physical body of the universe with its animating soul. He diffused the soul from the very core of the cosmic body outward to its outermost extremities in every direction, allowing the invisible soul to completely envelop and permeate the visible body. With this integration, the soul commenced its perpetual rotation, marking the genesis of its eternal and rational existence (36e).

Consequently, having been meticulously composed of Sameness, Difference, and Existence (their harmonic mean), and perfectly formed according to precise proportions, the soul possesses the inherent capacity to discern and declare the sameness or difference of every object it encounters. When confronted with a sensible, perceptible object, the inner circle of the Diverse transmits its motion to the soul, giving rise to subjective opinions. However, when it engages with an intellectual object, the circle of the Same turns perfectly round and true, yielding genuine and unwavering knowledge (37a–c).

The world as a cohesive whole, along with its orbiting planets and the distant, fixed stars, are thus presented as living, visible gods (39e). These celestial entities, imbued with divine purpose, play an essential and active role in the creation and sustenance of human beings, and crucially, in the regulation of their moral lives (41d). It's a rather elegant, if slightly terrifying, system of cosmic accountability.

The elements

Timaeus, ever the geometrician, posits that the minute, fundamental particle of each of the primary elements possessed a distinct and specific geometric shape. According to his schema, fire was associated with the tetrahedron, air with the octahedron, water with the icosahedron, and earth with the cube. Each of these shapes was chosen for its unique properties, which, for Plato, logically corresponded to the observed characteristics of the element it represented. For instance, the sharp points of the tetrahedron made it suitable for the penetrating, destructive nature of fire, while the stable, flat faces of the cube aligned with the solidity and immobility of earth.

Tetrahedron (fire) Octahedron (air) Icosahedron (water) Cube (earth)

Dodecahedron – the fifth element

Timaeus advances detailed conjectures regarding the fundamental composition of the four elements that many ancient Greeks believed constituted the entirety of the physical universe: earth, water, air, and fire. He meticulously links each of these elements to a specific Platonic solid, arguing that the inherent structure of these perfect polyhedra dictates the properties of the elements themselves. Thus, the element of earth is assigned the cube, air is represented by the octahedron, water by the icosahedron, and fire by the tetrahedron. This geometric assignment is not arbitrary; it is rooted in the perceived qualities of these shapes. For example, the cube, with its stable, flat faces, is seen as perfectly suited to the solidity and immobility of earth. The tetrahedron, being the sharpest and most mobile of the solids, naturally corresponds to the penetrating and active nature of fire.

Furthermore, Timaeus posits that each of these perfect polyhedra is, in turn, composed of even more fundamental triangular faces. Specifically, he identifies two types of elementary right-angled triangles: the 30-60-90 scalene triangle and the 45-45-90 isosceles triangle. These elementary triangles, he argues, are the ultimate building blocks. The faces of each element's Platonic solid could be broken down into these constituent right-angled triangles, which could then, theoretically, be reassembled to form all of physical matter. This ingenious system provided a mechanism for elemental transformation; for instance, fire (tetrahedra) could, upon breaking down, yield triangles that could then form water (icosahedra) or air (octahedra). This offered a rudimentary, yet profound, explanation for the observed transmutations of matter. The particular characteristics of matter, such as water's renowned capacity to extinguish fire, were then rationally, if geometrically, related to the specific shape and size of their constituent triangles. A truly elegant, if entirely speculative, ancient particle physics.

The discussion then turns to the dodecahedron, the fifth and final Platonic solid. Its faces, unlike the others, are not triangular, but rather pentagonal. This unique solid was interpreted to represent the shape of the Universe as a whole, possibly because, of all the elements, it most closely approximates a perfect sphere, a shape which Timaeus had already established as the form into which the Demiurge had fashioned the Universe. It's a fitting conclusion to a rather dense geometric cosmology.

Beyond the elements, Plato also offers an intricate analysis of a third kind of reality, distinct from both the intelligible and the sensible realms, which he terms Khôra (χώρα). This enigmatic concept designates a "receptacle" (Timaeus 48e), a primordial space, a material substratum, or an interval within which the "forms" were originally held before their manifestation in the sensible world. It is the matrix that "gives space" for generation, possessing distinct maternal overtones, often likened to a womb or a cosmic matrix. Recent scholarship has delved deeply into this notion, exploring its profound impact not only on the history of philosophy but also on contemporary phenomenology. Notable contributions include Nader El-Bizri's "'Qui-êtes vous Khôra?': Receiving Plato's Timaeus" (2001), his "ON KAI KHORA: Situating Heidegger between the Sophist and the Timaeus" (2004), and "Ontopoiēsis and the Interpretation of Plato's Khôra" (2004), all of which illuminate the enduring complexity and influence of this elusive concept.

The extensive final portion of the dialogue shifts its focus to the intricate creation of human beings. This segment encompasses a detailed discussion of the human soul, the complexities of anatomy, the mechanisms of perception, and the profound philosophical concept of the transmigration of the soul. Plato also dedicates considerable attention to the precise creation of the physical body, as well as offering a meticulous analysis of the causes underlying both bodily and psychic diseases. For instance, he explores how imbalances of the elements or specific soul states can lead to various ailments, providing a holistic, if archaic, medical philosophy. For deeper insights into psychic disorders, one might consult Douglas R. Campbell's "The Soul's Tomb: Plato on the Body as the Cause of Psychic Disorders" (2022), and for bodily diseases, Harold W. Miller's "The Aetiology of Disease in Plato's Timaeus" (1962).

Later influence

Medieval manuscript of Calcidius's Latin Timaeus translation.

The Timaeus holds a rather unique and disproportionately significant place in the history of Western thought, largely due to its early translation into Latin. The first known, albeit fragmentary, translation was undertaken by Marcus Tullius Cicero around 45 BC, covering sections 27d–47b of the original Greek text. Cicero's partial rendition proved remarkably influential during late antiquity, particularly among Latin-speaking Church Fathers such as Saint Augustine, who, notably, did not appear to have direct access to the complete original Greek dialogue. The very survival and widespread dissemination of Cicero's fragmentary Timaeus, alongside numerous other foundational Latin philosophical works, is largely attributable to the diligent efforts of monastic scholars, especially those concentrated at Corbie Abbey in North-East France during the intellectually vibrant Carolingian Period. These custodians of knowledge painstakingly copied and preserved texts that might otherwise have been lost to history.

Later, in the 4th century AD, a more extensive translation was provided by Calcidius, extending up to section 53c of the dialogue. Calcidius's translation of the Timaeus exerted a profound and lasting influence on medieval Neoplatonic cosmology, becoming a central text for understanding the structure and origin of the universe. It was particularly scrutinized and commented upon by the intellectually vigorous 12th-century Christian philosophers associated with the renowned Chartres School, figures such as Thierry of Chartres and William of Conches. These scholars, interpreting Plato's creation myth through the lens of Christian faith, understood the dialogue to refer to a creatio ex nihilo – creation out of nothing – despite Plato's original concept of a demiurge ordering pre-existent matter. Interestingly, Calcidius himself, in his own commentary on the dialogue, never explicitly drew a direct link between Plato's creation myth in the Timaeus and the Old Testament creation story found in Genesis, demonstrating a nuanced approach that his later interpreters sometimes overlooked.

Remarkably, despite the general absence of direct translations of Plato's works into Arabic during the medieval era, the Timaeus still managed to exert considerable influence in Arabic-speaking regions, beginning as early as the 10th century AD. This influence, however, was largely indirect, mediated through a translation by the Syrian Nestorian Christian scholar Hunayn ibn Ishaq (809 – 873 AD) of a synopsis of the work by the celebrated physician Galen, a text which, fortunately, remains extant. Further evidence for an early translation of this synopsis is found in the comprehensive Catalogue (or fihrist) compiled by Ibn al-Nadīm, which points to a translation by Ibn al-Bitriq, a figure associated with the intellectual circle of Al-Kindī. This intricate web of transmission highlights the persistent intellectual curiosity and cross-cultural exchange that characterized the medieval world.

For much of the Middle Ages in the Latin-speaking West, the Timaeus held the rather solitary distinction of being the sole work of Plato that was typically available in monastic libraries. Its relative scarcity made it an even more prized possession. The renowned 14th-century humanist, Petrarch (1304-1374), a figure central to the early Renaissance, notably recorded his considerable difficulty in locating a copy of the dialogue, underscoring its rarity and the challenges faced by scholars in accessing ancient texts during that period.

In his introduction to Plato's Dialogues, the 19th-century translator Benjamin Jowett offers a rather blunt, yet widely echoed, assessment: "Of all the writings of Plato, the Timaeus is the most obscure and repulsive to the modern reader." One can hardly blame him; attempting to parse Plato's cosmic geometry and theological pronouncements without the proper intellectual framework is indeed a Sisyphean task. It serves as a rather pointed reminder that not all ancient wisdom is immediately palatable, and some things are simply not designed for casual consumption by those unwilling to exert the necessary intellectual effort.

Notes

• ^ See Burnet, John (1913). Greek Philosophy, Part 1: Thales to Plato. London: Macmillan, p. 328

• ^ Taylor, AE (1928). A commentary on Plato's Timaeus. Oxford: Clarendon, p. 23.

• ^ Nails, Debra (2002). "Critias III," in The People of Plato. Indianapolis: Hackett, pp. 106–7.

• ^ "Philolaus". Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. Retrieved 15 August 2019.

• ^ Translation by Benjamin Jowett (1817-1893) reproduced in, for example, John Michael Greer, Atlantis (Llewelyn Worldwide 2007 • ISBN 978-0-73870978-9 ), p. 9

• ^ "The components from which he made the soul and the way in which he made it were as follows: In between the Being that is indivisible and always changeless, and the one that is divisible and comes to be in the corporeal realm, he mixed a third, intermediate form of being, derived from the other two. Similarly, he made a mixture of the Same, and then one of the Different, in between their indivisible and their corporeal, divisible counterparts. And he took the three mixtures and mixed them together to make a uniform mixture, forcing the Different, which was hard to mix, into conformity with the Same. Now when he had mixed these two with Being, and from the three had made a single mixture, he redivided the whole mixture into as many parts as his task required, each part remaining a mixture of the Same, the Different and Being." (35a-b), translation Donald J. Zeyl

• ^ For a fuller discussion, see Bartninkas, V. (2023). Traditional and Cosmic Gods in Later Plato and the Early Academy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 44-51, 96-104.

• ^ Plato, Timaeus, 53c

• ^ Plato offers an analysis of third kind of reality, between the intelligible and the sensible, namely as Khôra (χώρα). This designates a receptacle (Timaeus 48e), a space, a material substratum, or an interval in which the "forms" were originally held; it "gives space" and has maternal overtones (a womb, matrix). For recent studies on this notion and its impact not only in history of philosophy but on phenomenology see for example: Nader El-Bizri, "' Qui-êtes vous Khôra? ': Receiving Plato's Timaeus ," Existentia Meletai-Sophias , Vol. XI, Issue 3-4 (2001), pp. 473–490; Nader El-Bizri, " ON KAI KHORA : Situating Heidegger between the Sophist and the Timaeus," Studia Phaenomenologica , Vol. IV, Issue 1-2 (2004), pp. 73–98 [1]; Nader El-Bizri, " Ontopoiēsis and the Interpretation of Plato's Khôra ," Analecta Husserliana: The Yearbook of Phenomenological Research , Vol. LXXXIII (2004), pp. 25–45.

• ^ For psychic diseases, see Douglas R. Campbell, "The Soul's Tomb: Plato on the Body as the Cause of Psychic Disorders," Apeiron 55 (1): 119-139. 2022. For bodily diseases, see Harold W. Miller, "The Aetiology of Disease in Plato's Timaeus," Transactions and Proceedings of the American Philological Association 93: 175-187. 1962.

• ^ Cicero's version can be found at forumromanum.org

• ^ • Hoenig, Christina (2018). Plato's Timaeus and the Latin Tradition. Cambridge University Press. p. 220.

• ^ • Ganz, D. (1990). Corbie in the Carolingian Renaissance. Paris. {{cite book}} : CS1 maint: location missing publisher (link)

• ^ • Stiefel, Tina (1985). The Intellectual Revolution in Twelfth Century Europe. New York: St. Martin's Press. ISBN 978-0-312-41892-2 .

• ^ • Magee, John (2016). On Plato's Timaeus. Calcidius. Harvard University Press. pp. viii–xi.

• ^ • Das, Aileen R. (September 2013). Galen and the Arabic traditions of Plato's Timaeus (phd). University of Warwick.

• ^ • "A Likely Story - Plato's Timaeus". History of Philosophy Without Any Gaps.

• ^ Jayne, S. (1995). The Chrysoloras Revival of Plato in Italy (1350–1456). In: Plato in Renaissance England. Archives Internationales D’Histoire des Idées / International Archives of the History of Ideas, vol 141. Springer, Dordrecht. • doi:10.1007/978-94-015-8551-4_1

• ^ • Bauer, Susan Wise (2015). The Story of Science: From the Writings of Aristotle to the Big Bang Theory (1st ed.). New York: W. W. Norton. p. 13. ISBN 978-0-393-24326-0 . OCLC 891611100.

Bibliography

• Bartninkas, V. (2023). Traditional and Cosmic Gods in Later Plato and the Early Academy Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. • ISBN 9781009322591

• Broadie, S. (2012). Nature and Divinity in Plato's Timaeus. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge Univ. Press.

• Campbell, Douglas R. "The Soul's Tomb: Plato on the Body as the Cause of Psychic Disorders," Apeiron 55 (1): 119–139. 2022.

• • Cornford, Francis Macdonald (1997) [1935]. Plato's Cosmology: The Timaeus of Plato, Translated with a Running Commentary. Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company, Inc. ISBN 978-0-87220-386-0 .

• Gregory, A. (2000). Plato's Philosophy of Science. London: Duckworth.

• • Kalderon, Mark Eli (2023). Cosmos and Perception in Plato's Timaeus: In the Eye of the Cognitive Storm. Taylor & Francis. ISBN 978-1-000-86230-0 .

• Lennox, J. (1985). "Plato's Unnatural Teleology." In Platonic Investigations. Edited by D. J. O'Meara, 195–218. Studies in Philosophy and the History of Philosophy 13. Washington, DC: Catholic Univ. of America Press.

• Johansen, Thomas. 2004. Plato's Natural Philosophy: A Study of the Timaeus-Critias. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

• • Martin, Thomas Henry (1981) [1841]. Études sur le Timée de Platon. Paris: Librairie philosophique J. Vrin.

• Miller, Harold W. "The Aetiology of Disease in Plato's Timaeus," Transactions and Proceedings of the American Philological Association

• Mohr, R. D., and B. M. Sattler, eds. (2010). One Book, the Whole Universe: Plato's Timaeus Today. Las Vegas, NV: Parmenides.

• Morgan, K. A. (1998). "Designer History: Plato's Atlantis Story and Fourth-Century Ideology". Journal of Hellenic Studies 118:101–118.

• Morrow, G. R. 1950. "Necessity and Persuasion in Plato's Timaeus." Philosophical Review 59.2: 147–163.

• • Murray, K. Sarah-Jane (2008). From Plato to Lancelot: A Preface to Chretien de Troyes. Syracuse University Press. ISBN 978-0-8156-3160-6 .

• Osborne, C. (1996). "Space, Time, Shape, and Direction: Creative Discourse in the Timaeus." In Form and Argument in Late Plato. Edited by C. Gill and M. M. McCabe, 179–211. Oxford: Clarendon.

• Pears, Colin David. (2015-2016). "Congruency and Evil in Plato's Timaeus." The Review of Metaphysics: A Philosophical Quarterly 69.1: 93–113.

• Reydams-Schils, G. J. ed. (2003). Plato's Timaeus as Cultural Icon. Notre Dame, IN: Univ. of Notre Dame Press.

• • Sallis, John (1999). Chorology: On Beginning in Plato's "Timaeus". Bloomington: Indiana University Press. ISBN 978-0-253-21308-2 .

• Slaveva-Griffin, Svetla. (2005). "'A Feast of Speeches': Form and Content in Plato's Timaeus." Hermes 133.3: 312–327.

• • Taylor, Alfred E. (1928). A Commentary on Plato's Timaeus. Oxford: Clarendon.