Motion (n.) is a figure of speech: mechanics shows us only results, and only in images.
Motion (n.) would be unknown to us, as would time, if we did not crudely believe we saw something at rest alongside what moves.
Motion (n.) is truth, not semblance — proved against Parmenides by the indubitable succession of ideas in our own thinking.
Motion (n.) is a translation of the world of effect into a world for the eyes — mechanics already speaks the sensual language of man.
Motion (n.) is impossible, for Achilles must first cross half the interval, then a fourth, an eighth, ad infinitum — if he catches the tortoise, that is an un-logical phenomenon, not a real one.