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28. But how is it when the memory itself loses anything, as it
happens when we forget anything and try to recall it? Where finally do
we search, but in the memory itself? And there, if perchance one
thing be offered for another, we refuse it, until we meet with what we
seek; and when we do, we exclaim, "This is it!" which we should
not do unless we knew it again, nor should we recognise it unless we
remembered it. Assuredly, therefore, we had forgotten it. Or, had
not the whole of it slipped our memory, but by the part by which we had
hold was the other part sought for; since the memory perceived that it
did not revolve together as much as it was accustomed to do, and
halting, as if from the mutilation of its old habit, demanded the
restoration of that which was wanting. For example, if we see or
think of some man known to us, and, having forgotten his name,
endeavour to recover it, whatsoever other thing presents itself is not
connected with it; because it was not used to be thought of in
connection with him, and is consequently rejected, until that is
present whereon the knowledge reposes fittingly as its accustomed
object. And whence, save from the memory itself, does the present
itself? For even when we recognise it as put in mind of it by
another, it is thence it comes. For we do not believe it as something
new, but, as we recall it, admit what was said to be correct. But
if it were entirely blotted out of the mind, we should not, even when
put in mind of it, recollect it. For we have not as yet entirely
forgotten what we remember that we have forgotten. A lost notion,
then, which we have entirely forgotten, we cannot even search for.
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