one of the two fuses with the other without the soul undergoing any change or contrivance—that is, without being transformed from its very essence so that it would cease to be the recognisable soul known by its operations—nor does the body change or resort to any contrivance that would take it away from its own state and functions. Likewise, when fire mingles with iron, the two cohere and become a single ember, yet the fire has not been altered into a heavy blade that splits and cuts, nor has the iron been changed or contrived into fire that burns. In the same way, every compound union of two unlike things—one of them subtle and immaterial, the other heavy and dense—acts: soul and body, fire and iron, and even the sun when it pervades water, clay, every moist substance and mire. The sun does not change or contrive away from its light, purity, and brilliance, though it interpenetrates every darkness, filth, stench, and impurity.
He said:
Mixture takes place in three ways:
First: a blending that brings together two heavy natures, along with their transformation and corruption—such as mixing wine with water, vinegar with honey, or gold with silver, lead, and copper. In each of these cases, and in everything akin to them, there is contrivance and corruption; for the compound of wine and water is neither wine nor water, since each component has departed from its own nature, and their intermingling produces their corruption and their alteration from their former state.