He Who Sought Himself: The Grandeur and Solitude of Heraclitus

Trans­lated from French

Her­a­cli­tus of Eph­esus reaches us, from the depths of ages, through the frag­ments of a scroll de­posit­ed, in the 5th cen­tury BC, in the tem­ple of Artemis. It is still de­bated whether this scroll was a con­tin­u­ous trea­tise, or whether it con­sisted of iso­lated thoughts, like those that the chance of quo­ta­tion has pre­served for us. Her­a­cli­tus ex­pressed him­self, in any case, in a sibylline, com­pact style, apt to as­ton­ish; he adopted at once the tone of a prophet and the lan­guage of a philoso­pher. Hence that ep­i­thet of the Ob­scure or Tene­brous (Σκοτεινός) so of­ten af­fixed to his name, but which seems to me no less ex­ag­ger­at­ed: “Cer­tainly [his] read­ing is rough and dif­fi­cult to ap­proach. The night is dark, the shad­ows are thick. But if an ini­ti­ate guides you, you will see more clearly in this book than in broad day­light” (Greek An­thol­ogy, from the Pala­tine man­u­script). The frag­ments that re­main of his doc­trine are like the flashes of a storm that had mys­te­ri­ously with­drawn, rend­ing the pre-So­cratic night with a fire com­pa­ra­ble to no oth­er. Hegel, re­trac­ing the emer­gence of the “light of thought,” rec­og­nizes in Her­a­cli­tus the most ra­di­antly cen­tral fig­ure. Hei­deg­ger goes fur­ther: “Her­a­cli­tus is nick­named ’the Ob­scure.’ Yet he is the Clear. For he says that which il­lu­mi­nates, try­ing to in­vite its light to en­ter the lan­guage of thought”¹Hei­deg­ger, Mar­t­in, Es­sais et Con­férences (Es­says and Lec­tures), trans. from the Ger­man by An­dré Préau, pref. by Jean Beaufret, Paris: Gal­li­mard, coll. “Les Es­sais,” 1958..

The Royalty of Refusal

To this ap­par­ent ob­scu­rity was added, in Her­a­cli­tus, a core of pride and dis­dain for his fel­low men. For when a philoso­pher is proud, he is never so by halves. A crown prince, he read­ily re­lin­quished the royal dig­nity to his broth­er, then re­fused to leg­is­late for a city he deemed ir­re­me­di­a­bly “un­der the sway of a wretched con­sti­tu­tion” (πονηρᾷ πολιτείᾳ). There he was, with­drawn in the sanc­tu­ary of Artemis, play­ing knuck­le­bones with chil­dren. Did on­look­ers crowd around him? He would fling at them:

“Why do you mar­vel, scoundrels? Is it not bet­ter to do this than to lead the life of the city with you?” (Τί, ὦ κάκιστοι, θαυμάζετε; Ἢ οὐ κρεῖττον τοῦτο ποιεῖν ἢ μεθ’ ὑμῶν πολιτεύεσθαι;)

Dio­genes Laer­tius, Book IX, trans. from the Greek by Jacques Brun­schwig, in Vies et Doc­trines des philosophes il­lus­tres (Lives and Doc­trines of the Il­lus­tri­ous Philoso­phers), trans. un­der the di­rec­tion of Marie-Odile Goulet-Cazé, Paris: Li­brairie générale française, coll. “La Pochothèque,” 1999.

This sage had need of no one, scorn­ing even the so­ci­ety of schol­ars. For all that, he was not an in­sen­si­ble man; and when he grieved over the mis­for­tunes that wove hu­man ex­is­tence, tears would rise to his eyes. “I have sought my­self” (Ἐδιζησάμην ἐμεωυτόν), he con­fess­es, as though he alone truly ful­filled the Del­phic pre­cept “Know thy­self.” Ni­et­zsche would feel the sa­cred ter­ror of this self-suf­fi­cien­cy: “one can­not di­vine,” the philoso­pher of the will to power would say, “what the feel­ing of soli­tude was that per­vaded the Eph­esian her­mit of the tem­ple of Artemis, un­less one finds one­self pet­ri­fied with dread upon the most des­o­late and wildest of moun­tains”²Ni­et­zsche, Friedrich, La Philoso­phie à l’époque trag­ique des Grecs (Phi­los­o­phy in the Tragic Age of the Greeks), trans. from the Ger­man by Michel Haar and Marc de Lau­nay, in Œuvres (Works). I, trans. un­der the di­rec­tion of Marc de Lau­nay, Paris: Gal­li­mard, coll. “Bib­lio­thèque de la Pléi­ade,” 2000..

The Vertigo of Universal Flux

While at the other ex­trem­ity of the Greek world, the Eleatic school froze be­ing in an icy im­mo­bil­i­ty, Her­a­cli­tus con­ceived of unity as a river in per­pet­ual mo­tion, which re­mains the same al­though al­ways dif­fer­ent, the new waves cease­lessly driv­ing the old ones be­fore them³By this im­age, Her­a­cli­tus does not merely say that ex­is­tence is sub­ject to vi­cis­si­tudes and de­cli­nes, but that no thing is this or that: it becomes so. The world re­sem­bles the kykeon (κυκεών), that mix­ture of wine, grated cheese, and bar­ley flour, whose thick con­sis­tency owes its unity only to ag­i­ta­tion. When the stir­ring ceas­es, the el­e­ments dis­so­ci­ate, the heavy sinks back, and this rit­ual bev­er­age is no more. Move­ment thus proves con­sti­tu­tive of the union of op­po­sites: “Even the kykeon de­com­poses if one does not stir it” (Καὶ ὁ κυκεὼν διίσταται μὴ κινούμενος).. Against the com­mon il­lu­sion of per­ma­nence, noth­ing is sta­ble: “Ev­ery­thing flows” (Πάντα ῥεῖ), “Ev­ery­thing is becoming” (Hegel), “All things […] tot­ter cease­lessly […]. I do not paint be­ing. I paint the pas­sage” (Mon­taigne).

The flow­ing of all things has this con­se­quence: ev­ery­thing con­verts into its op­po­site. If be­ing ex­ists only in change, it is in­evitably a mid­dle ground be­tween two op­pos­ing terms; at ev­ery in­stant, one stands be­fore that elu­sive bound­ary where two con­trary qual­i­ties meet. A ter­ri­ble law that ap­plies to the hu­man be­ing him­self, whose ev­ery age is the death of the one be­fore:

“Has not the nursling van­ished in the child, and the child in the boy, the youth in the ado­les­cent, the ado­les­cent in the young man, then […] the grown man in the old man […]? Per­haps […] na­ture silently teaches us not to dread the fi­nal death?”

Philo of Alexan­dria, De Iosepho, trans. from the Greek by Jean La­porte, Paris: Édi­tions du Cerf, coll. “Les Œu­vres de Philon d’Alexan­drie,” 1964.

The Aesthetics of the Cosmic Game

In search of a tragic af­fir­ma­tion of life, Ni­et­zsche would make the her­mit of Eph­esus his clos­est an­ces­tor. “The world, in its eter­nal need for truth, has […] eter­nally need of Her­a­cli­tus,” he would de­clare. And else­where:

“[…] the com­pany of Her­a­cli­tus puts me more at ease and com­forts me more than any oth­er. The ac­qui­es­cence in im­per­ma­nence and annihilation; the ”yes“ spo­ken to con­tra­dic­tion and war; becoming, im­ply­ing the re­fusal of the very no­tion of ”being“ — in this, I must rec­og­nize […] the thought near­est to my own that has ever been con­ceived.”

Ni­et­zsche, Friedrich, L’Antéchrist (The An­tichrist), fol­lowed by Ecce homo, trans. from the Ger­man by Jean-Claude Hémery, Paris: Gal­li­mard, coll. “Fo­lio,” 1974.

What the Ger­man philoso­pher would find there above all was the an­ti­dote to Schopen­haue­rian pes­simism. Far from bend­ing be­neath the yoke of sup­posed faults, in­jus­tices, con­tra­dic­tions, suf­fer­ings, re­al­ity frees it­self from all moral­i­ty: it is “a child play­ing, push­ing pieces on a board: the king­ship of a child” (παῖς […] παίζων, πεσσεύων· παιδὸς ἡ βασιληίη). If Her­a­cli­tus min­gled with noisy chil­dren at play in the sanc­tu­ary of Artemis, it was be­cause he was al­ready med­i­tat­ing there on the “game of the great world-child,” that is to say, God. The will to power takes shape here in Ni­et­zsche’s mind: an artist-force that builds and de­stroys, with the sub­lime in­no­cence of a child plac­ing a few peb­bles here and there, or pil­ing up heaps of sand only to top­ple them again, be­yond good and evil. It is in the foot­steps of the Ob­scure that Ni­et­zsche “pre­pares to be­come the Antichrist, that is, he who re­jects the moral sig­nif­i­cance of the world.”

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Further Reading

On Héraclite : la lumière de l’Obscur (Heraclitus: The Light of the Obscure)

Quotations

“Ἀκοῦσαι οὐκ ἐπιστάμενοι οὐδ᾽ εἰπεῖν. • Ψυχῆς πείρατα ἰὼν οὐκ ἂν ἐξεύροιο πᾶσαν ἐπιπορευόμενος ὁδόν· οὕτω βαθὺν λόγον ἔχει. • Ποταμοῖς τοῖς αὐτοῖς ἐμβαίνομέν τε καὶ οὐκ ἐμβαίνομεν, εἶμέν τε καὶ οὐκ εἶμεν.”

Αποσπάσματα (Ηράκλειτος) on Wik­isource ελληνικά, [on­line], ac­cessed Feb­ru­ary 22, 2026.

“Not be­ing versed in lis­ten­ing, they do not know how to speak ei­ther. • You would not find the lim­its of the soul, even by trav­el­ing all the roads, so deep is its lo­gos. • We step and do not step into the same rivers; we are and we are not.”

Her­a­cli­tus of Eph­esus, Hér­a­clite : la lu­mière de l’Ob­scur (Her­a­cli­tus: The Light of the Ob­scure), trans. from the Greek by Jean Bouchart d’Or­val, pref. by Con­stantin Foti­nas. Mon­tre­al: Édi­tions du Roseau, 1997; repr., Gordes: Les Édi­tions du Re­lié, coll. “Poche,” 2007.

“Not know­ing how to lis­ten, they do not know how to speak ei­ther. • You would not find the lim­its of the soul, even trav­el­ing all the roads, so deep a dis­course (λόγον) does it hold. • We step and do not step into the same rivers; we are and we are not (there).”

Her­a­cli­tus of Eph­esus, Fragments, trans. from the Greek by Mar­cel Conche, Paris: Presses uni­ver­si­taires de France, coll. “Épiméthée,” 1986; repr. un­der the ti­tle Frag­ments re­com­posés : présen­tés dans un or­dre ra­tionnel (Re­com­posed Frag­ments: Pre­sented in a Ra­tio­nal Or­der), Paris: PUF, 2017.

“They know nei­ther how to lis­ten, nor how to speak. • Even if you trav­eled all the paths, you would never find the lim­its of the soul, so deep is the knowl­edge it pos­sess­es. • We go down into the same rivers and do not go down; we are there and we are not.”

Her­a­cli­tus of Eph­esus, Frag­ments : ci­ta­tions et té­moignages (Frag­ments: Quo­ta­tions and Tes­ti­monies), trans. from the Greek by Jean-François Pradeau, Paris: Flam­mar­i­on, coll. “GF,” 2002.

“They know nei­ther how to lis­ten, nor even how to speak. • Lim­its of the soul, you could not find them by pur­su­ing your way / How­ever long the en­tire road / So deep is the lo­gos it con­tains. • Into the same rivers / We step and we do not step / We are and we are not.”

Du­mont, Jean-Paul (ed.), Les Pré­socra­tiques (The Pre-So­crat­ics), trans. from the Greek by Jean-Paul Du­mont, with the col­lab­o­ra­tion of Daniel De­lat­tre and Jean-Louis Poiri­er, Paris: Gal­li­mard, coll. “Bib­lio­thèque de la Pléi­ade,” 1988.

“In­ca­pable of lis­ten­ing, no more (than) of speak­ing. • And the lim­its of the soul, where you go, you will not dis­cov­er, even if you travel all the roads, so deep is its lo­gos. • Into the same rivers we step and do not step, we are and are not.”

Her­a­cli­tus of Eph­esus, Hér­a­clite d’Éphèse, les ves­tiges (Her­a­cli­tus of Eph­esus, the Ves­tiges). II­I.3.B/i, Les Frag­ments du livre d’Hér­a­clite (The Frag­ments of the Book of Her­a­cli­tus), trans. from the Greek by Serge Mouraviev [Ser­gueï Niki­titch Mouraviev], Sankt Au­gustin: Academia Ver­lag, coll. “Her­a­clitea,” 2006.

“Those peo­ple who know nei­ther how to lis­ten nor how to speak. • The lim­its of the soul, you could not reach them, even by trav­el­ing the en­tire road, so deep a lo­gos it holds. • Into the same rivers, we step and we do not step, we are and we are not.”

Her­a­cli­tus of Eph­esus, Les Frag­ments d’Hér­a­clite (The Frag­ments of Her­a­cli­tus), trans. from the Greek by Roger Mu­nier, Toulouse: Fata Mor­gana, coll. “Les Im­mé­mo­ri­aux,” 1991.

“Men, who hear and speak with­out know­ing. • The fron­tiers of the soul, you could not reach them how­ever far, on all the roads, your steps may lead you: so deep is the word that dwells within it. • We step and we do not step into the same rivers, we are and are not.”

Bat­tis­tini, Yves (ed.), Trois Con­tem­po­rains : Hér­a­clite, Par­ménide, Em­pé­do­cle (Three Con­tem­po­raries: Her­a­cli­tus, Par­menides, Empe­do­cles), trans. from the Greek by Yves Bat­tis­tini, Paris: Gal­li­mard, coll. “Les Es­sais,” 1955; repr. ex­panded un­der the ti­tle Trois Pré­socra­tiques (Three Pre-So­crat­ics), Paris: Gal­li­mard, coll. “Idées,” 1968.

“They know nei­ther how to lis­ten nor even how to speak. • [la­cu­na] • We go down and we do not go down into the same river, we are and are not.”

Tan­nery, Paul, Pour l’his­toire de la sci­ence hel­lène : de Thalès à Em­pé­do­cle (To­ward a His­tory of Hel­lenic Sci­ence: From Thales to Empe­do­cles), Paris: F. Al­can, 1887; repr. (pref. by Fed­erigo En­riques), Paris: Gau­thier-Vil­lars, 1930.

“Those peo­ple who know nei­ther how to lis­ten nor how to speak. • One can­not find the lim­its of the soul, what­ever path one takes, so deeply em­bed­ded are they. • We go down and we do not go down into the same river; we are and we are not.”

Voilquin, Jean (ed.), Les Penseurs grecs avant Socrate : de Thalès de Milet à Prod­i­cos (Greek Thinkers Be­fore Socrates: From Thales of Mile­tus to Prod­i­cus), trans. from the Greek by Jean Voilquin, Paris: Li­brairie Gar­nier Frères, coll. “Clas­siques Gar­nier,” 1941; repr., Paris: Gar­nier-Flam­mar­i­on, coll. “GF,” 1964.

“Not be­ing ca­pa­ble of lis­ten­ing, no more of speak­ing. • Of lim­its to the ”p­sukhè“ dur­ing its jour­ney, he would not dis­cover them, the man who would take all the paths: it has so deep a lo­gos. • Into the same rivers, we step and we do not step, we are and we are not.”

Her­a­cli­tus of Eph­esus, Fragments, trans. from the Greek by Frédéric Rous­sille, with the col­lab­o­ra­tion of Éliane Gail­lard and François Bar­boux, Paris: Édi­tions Find­ak­ly, 1984.

“De­light is there, but some know nei­ther how to see it nor how to hear it. • You will never find the lim­its of the vi­tal breath (”psy­che“), even by trav­el­ing all the roads, for the bliss of its de­light is in­fi­nite. • We step and do not step into the same rivers, we are and are not.”

Her­a­cli­tus of Eph­esus, Les Frag­ments d’Hér­a­clite (The Frag­ments of Her­a­cli­tus), trans. from the Greek by Guy Mas­sat, [Sucy-en-Brie]: An­for­t­as, 2018.

“Not know­ing how to lis­ten, they do not know how to speak ei­ther. • [la­cu­na] • Into the same rivers, we step and we do not step; we are and we are not.”

Plazenet, Lau­rence (ed.), An­tholo­gie de la lit­téra­ture grecque : de Troie à Byzance (An­thol­ogy of Greek Lit­er­a­ture: From Troy to Byzan­tium), trans. from the Greek by Em­manuèle Blanc, [Paris]: Gal­li­mard, coll. “Fo­lio Clas­sique,” 2020.

“Not know­ing how to lis­ten or speak. • The con­fines of the soul, in your march, you will not dis­cover them, even if you travel ev­ery path; it con­tains so deep a lo­gos. • We step and do not step into the same rivers, we are and are not.”

Ax­elos, Kostas, Hér­a­clite et la Philoso­phie : la pre­mière saisie de l’être en de­venir de la to­tal­ité (Her­a­cli­tus and Phi­los­o­phy: The First Grasp of Be­ing in the Be­com­ing of To­tal­ity), Paris: Les Édi­tions de Mi­nu­it, coll. “Ar­gu­ments,” 1962.

“They know nei­ther how to hear, nor how to speak. • You would find no limit to the soul, even by voy­ag­ing on all the roads, so deep a lo­gos it has. • We step and we do not step into the same rivers. We are and we are not.”

Ram­noux, Clé­mence, Hér­a­clite ou l’homme en­tre les choses et les mots (Her­a­cli­tus, or Man Be­tween Things and Words), pref. by Mau­rice Blan­chot, Paris: Les Belles Let­tres, coll. “Col­lec­tion d’é­tudes an­ci­en­nes,” 1959.

“As they do not know how to lis­ten, they do not know how to speak ei­ther. • The lim­its of the breath, he would not dis­cover them on his way, the man who would take them all. So deep is the rea­son he holds. • Into the same rivers, we step and we do not step, we are and we are not.”

Her­a­cli­tus of Eph­esus, Hér­a­clite ou la sé­pa­ra­tion (Her­a­cli­tus, or Sep­a­ra­tion), trans. from the Greek by Jean Bol­lack and Heinz Wis­mann. Paris: Les Édi­tions de Mi­nu­it, coll. “Le Sens com­mun,” 1972.

“In­ca­pable are they of lis­ten­ing as well as of speak­ing. • The ut­most point of the soul, one could not reach it by walk­ing, even if one went to the end of the road. For the orig­i­nary cause ex­tends deep within it. • Into the same rivers we step and do not step. Just as we ex­ist and do not ex­ist.”

Her­a­cli­tus of Eph­esus, Les Frag­ments (The Frag­ments), trans. from the Greek by Si­monne Jacque­mard, fol­lowed by Hér­a­clite d’Éphèse ou le flam­boiement de l’Ob­scur (Her­a­cli­tus of Eph­esus, or the Blaze of the Ob­scure) by the same au­thor, Paris: Ar­fuyen, coll. “Om­bre,” 2003.

“Not know­ing how to lis­ten or even how to speak. • You could not dis­cover the lim­its of the soul, / Even if you trav­eled all the roads, / So deep a lo­gos it har­bors. • Into the same rivers we step and do not step, / We are and are not.”

Her­a­cli­tus of Eph­esus, Éclats d’hori­zon : 150 frag­ments d’Hér­a­clite d’Éphèse (Shards of the Hori­zon: 150 Frag­ments of Her­a­cli­tus of Eph­esus), trans. from the Greek by Linda Ra­soa­manana, pref. by Yves Bat­tis­tini, Nan­tes: Éd. Amalthée, 2007.

“Not know­ing how to lis­ten / They do not know how to speak ei­ther. • Bounds of the soul / He would not dis­cover them / He who would travel all paths / So deep is the lo­gos it gath­ers. • Into the same rivers / We step and we do not step / We are and we are not.”

Ori­et, Blaise, Hér­a­clite ou la philoso­phie (Her­a­cli­tus, or Phi­los­o­phy), Paris: L’Har­mat­tan, coll. “Ou­ver­ture philosophique,” 2011.

“They know nei­ther how to lis­ten, nor how to speak. • The bounds of the soul, what­ever path you trav­el, you could not dis­cover them, so deep a rea­son it con­tains. • We go down and do not go down into the same river, we are and are not.”

Her­a­cli­tus of Eph­esus, Doc­trines philosophiques (Philo­soph­i­cal Doc­trines), trans. from the Greek by Mau­rice Solovine, Paris: F. Al­can, 1931.

“[la­cu­na] • One can­not find the lim­its of the soul, even by trav­el­ing the en­tire road, so deep a λόγος it has. • We step and do not step, we are and are not in the same rivers.”

Weil, Si­mone, La Source grecque (The Greek Source), Paris: Gal­li­mard, coll. “E­spoir,” 1953.

“Not know­ing how to lis­ten or speak. • You will not find the lim­its of the soul, what­ever di­rec­tion you travel in, so deep is its mea­sure. • We go down and do not go down into the same rivers; we are and are not.”

Bur­net, John, L’Au­rore de la philoso­phie grecque (The Dawn of Greek Phi­los­o­phy), trans. from the Eng­lish by Au­guste Rey­mond, Paris: Payot & Cie, 1919.

Downloads

Sound Recordings

• Heinz Wis­mann on Hér­a­clite : la lu­mière de l’Ob­scur (Her­a­cli­tus: The Light of the Ob­scure). (France Cul­ture).
• Hervé Pasqua on Hér­a­clite : la lu­mière de l’Ob­scur (Her­a­cli­tus: The Light of the Ob­scure). (Y­ouTube).
• Jean-Claude Ameisen on Hér­a­clite : la lu­mière de l’Ob­scur (Her­a­cli­tus: The Light of the Ob­scure). (France In­ter).
• Jean-François Pradeau on Hér­a­clite : la lu­mière de l’Ob­scur (Her­a­cli­tus: The Light of the Ob­scure). (France Cul­ture).
• Jérôme Stéphan on Hér­a­clite : la lu­mière de l’Ob­scur (Her­a­cli­tus: The Light of the Ob­scure). (Jérôme Stéphan).
• Kostas Ax­elos, Jean Beaufret, and François Châtelet on Hér­a­clite : la lu­mière de l’Ob­scur (Her­a­cli­tus: The Light of the Ob­scure). (France Cul­ture).
• Marc Bal­lan­fat on Hér­a­clite : la lu­mière de l’Ob­scur (Her­a­cli­tus: The Light of the Ob­scure). (France Cul­ture).
• Philippe Choulet on Hér­a­clite : la lu­mière de l’Ob­scur (Her­a­cli­tus: The Light of the Ob­scure). (France Cul­ture).
• Thibaut de Saint Mau­rice on Hér­a­clite : la lu­mière de l’Ob­scur (Her­a­cli­tus: The Light of the Ob­scure). (France Cul­ture).
• Ém­i­lie Hanns on Hér­a­clite : la lu­mière de l’Ob­scur (Her­a­cli­tus: The Light of the Ob­scure). (Oc­to­pus, le philosophe à ten­tac­ules).

Printed Works

• Ex­cerpt from Hér­a­clite : la lu­mière de l’Ob­scur (Her­a­cli­tus: The Light of the Ob­scure) in the trans­la­tion by Blaise Oriet (2011). (L’Har­mat­tan).
• Ex­cerpt from Hér­a­clite : la lu­mière de l’Ob­scur (Her­a­cli­tus: The Light of the Ob­scure) in the trans­la­tion by Jean-François Pradeau (2019). (Édi­tions Flam­mar­i­on).
• Ex­cerpt from Hér­a­clite : la lu­mière de l’Ob­scur (Her­a­cli­tus: The Light of the Ob­scure) in the trans­la­tion by Mar­cel Conche (2017). (Presses uni­ver­si­taires de France (PUF)).
• In­di­rect trans­la­tion of Hér­a­clite : la lu­mière de l’Ob­scur (Her­a­cli­tus: The Light of the Ob­scure) by Au­guste Rey­mond, af­ter that of John Bur­net (1919). (Google Book­s).
• In­di­rect trans­la­tion of Hér­a­clite : la lu­mière de l’Ob­scur (Her­a­cli­tus: The Light of the Ob­scure) by Au­guste Rey­mond, af­ter that of John Bur­net (1919), copy. (Cana­dian Li­braries).
• Par­tial trans­la­tion of Hér­a­clite : la lu­mière de l’Ob­scur (Her­a­cli­tus: The Light of the Ob­scure) by Paul Tan­nery (1887). (Google Book­s).
• Par­tial trans­la­tion of Hér­a­clite : la lu­mière de l’Ob­scur (Her­a­cli­tus: The Light of the Ob­scure) by Paul Tan­nery (1887), copy. (Google Book­s).
• Par­tial trans­la­tion of Hér­a­clite : la lu­mière de l’Ob­scur (Her­a­cli­tus: The Light of the Ob­scure) by Paul Tan­nery (1887), copy 2. (Cana­dian Li­braries).
• Par­tial trans­la­tion of Hér­a­clite : la lu­mière de l’Ob­scur (Her­a­cli­tus: The Light of the Ob­scure) by Paul Tan­nery (1887), copy 3. (Google Book­s).
• Par­tial trans­la­tion of Hér­a­clite : la lu­mière de l’Ob­scur (Her­a­cli­tus: The Light of the Ob­scure) by Paul Tan­nery (1887), copy 4. (Google Book­s).
• Par­tial trans­la­tion of Hér­a­clite : la lu­mière de l’Ob­scur (Her­a­cli­tus: The Light of the Ob­scure) by Paul Tan­nery (1930). (Bib­lio­thèque na­tionale de France (B­n­F)).
• Par­tial trans­la­tion of Hér­a­clite : la lu­mière de l’Ob­scur (Her­a­cli­tus: The Light of the Ob­scure) by Paul Tan­nery (elec­tronic ed.). (Wik­isource).
• Par­tial trans­la­tion of Hér­a­clite : la lu­mière de l’Ob­scur (Her­a­cli­tus: The Light of the Ob­scure) by Si­mone Weil (1953). (Google Book­s).
• Par­tial trans­la­tion of Hér­a­clite : la lu­mière de l’Ob­scur (Her­a­cli­tus: The Light of the Ob­scure) by Si­mone Weil (elec­tronic ed.). (Wik­isource).
• Edi­tion and trans­la­tion of Hér­a­clite : la lu­mière de l’Ob­scur (Her­a­cli­tus: The Light of the Ob­scure) by Guy Mas­sat (elec­tronic ed.). (Guy Mas­sat).

Bibliography

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• Beaufret, Jean, Di­a­logue avec Hei­deg­ger (Di­a­logue with Hei­deg­ger). I, Philoso­phie grecque (Greek Phi­los­o­phy), Paris: Les Édi­tions de Mi­nu­it, coll. “Ar­gu­ments,” 1973.
• Bouchart d’Or­val, Jean, Civil­i­sa­tion pro­fane : la perte du sacré (Pro­fane Civ­i­liza­tion: The Loss of the Sa­cred), Mon­tre­al: Édi­tions du Roseau, 1987.
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• Jan­i­caud, Do­minique, Hegel et le Des­tin de la Grèce (Hegel and the Des­tiny of Greece), Paris: Li­brairie philosophique J. Vrin, coll. “Bib­lio­thèque d’his­toire de la philoso­phie,” 1975.
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• Zeller, Édouard, La Philoso­phie des Grecs con­sid­érée dans son développe­ment his­torique (The Phi­los­o­phy of the Greeks Con­sid­ered in Its His­tor­i­cal De­vel­op­ment). II, Les Éléates, Hér­a­clite, Em­pé­do­cle, les Atom­is­tes, Anaxagore, les Sophistes (The Eleat­ics, Her­a­cli­tus, Empe­do­cles, the Atom­ists, Anaxago­ras, the Sophists), trans. from the Ger­man by Émile Boutroux, Paris: Ha­chet­te, 1882. (Google Book­s).