Memory is a kind of resurrection of the buried past: as we fix our retrospective glance on it, it appears to start anew into life; forms arise within our minds which, we feel sure, must faithfully represent the things that were.

We do not ask for any proof of the fidelity of this dramatic representation of our past history by memory.

It is seen to be a faithful imitation, just because it is felt to be a revival of the past.

To seek to make the immediate testimony of memory more sure seems absurd, since all our ways of describing and illustrating this mental operation assume that in the very act of performing it we do recover a part of our seemingly "dead selves." To challenge the veracity of a person's memory is one of the boldest things one can do in the way of attacking deep-seated conviction.

Memory is the peculiar domain of the individual.