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Confessiones
Caput 17
Magna vis est memoriae, nescio quod horrendum, deus meus, profunda et infinita multiplicitas; et hoc animus est, et hoc ego ipse sum. quid ergo sum, deus meus? quae natura sum? varia, multimoda vita et inmensa vehementer. ecce in memoriae meae campis et antris et cavernis innumerabilibus atque innumerabiliter plenis innumerabilium rerum generibus sive per imnagines, sicut omnium corporum, sive per praesentiam, sicut affectionum animi -- quas et cum animus non patitur, memoria tenet, cum in animo sit quidquid est in memoria -- per haec omnia discurro et volito hac illac, penetro etiam, quantum possum, et finis nusquam: tanta vis est memoriae, tanta vitae vis est in homine vivente mortaliter! quid igitur agam, tu vera mea vita, deus meus? transibo et hanc vim meam, quae memoria vocatur, transibo eam, ut pertendam ad te, dulce lumen. quid dicis mihi? ego ascendens per animum meum ad te, qui desuper mihi manes, transibo et istam vim meam, quae memoria vocatur volens te attingere, unde attingi potes, et inhaerere tibi, unde inhaereri tibi potest. habent enim memoriam et pecora et aves, alioquin non cubilia nidosve repeterent, non alia multa, quibus assuescunt; neque enim et assuescere valerent ullis rebus nisi per memoriam. transibo ergo et memoriam, ut attingam eum, qui separavit me a quadrupedibus et volatibus caeli sapientiorem me fecit. transibo et memoriam, ut ubi te inveniam, vere bone et secura suavitas, ut ubi te inveniam? si praeter memoriam meam te invenio, inmemor tui sum. et quomodo iam inveniam te, si memor non sum tui?
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The Confessions of St. Augustin In Thirteen Books
Chapter XVII.--God Cannot Be Attained Unto by the Power of Memory, Which Beasts and Birds Possess.
26. Great is the power of memory; very wonderful is it, O my God, a profound and infinite manifoldness; and this thing is the mind, and this I myself am. What then am I, O my God? Of what nature am I? A life various and manifold, and exceeding vast. Behold, in the numberless fields, and caves, and caverns of my memory, full without number of numberless kinds of things, either through images, as all bodies are; or by the presence of the things themselves, as are the arts; or by some notion or observation, as the affections of the mind are, which, even though the mind doth not suffer, the memory retains, while whatsoever is in the memory is also in the mind: through all these do I run to and fro, and fly; I penetrate on this side and that, as far as I am able, and nowhere is there an end. So great is the power of memory, so great the power of life in man, whose life is mortal. What then shall I do, O Thou my true life, my God? I will pass even beyond this power of mine which is called memory--I will pass beyond it, that I may proceed to Thee, O Thou sweet Light. What sayest Thou to me? Behold, I am soaring by my mind towards Thee who remainest above me. I will also pass beyond this power of mine which is called memory, wishful to reach Thee whence Thou canst be reached, and to cleave unto Thee whence it is possible to cleave unto Thee. For even beasts and birds possess memory, else could they never find their lairs and nests again, nor many other things to which they are used; neither indeed could they become used to anything, but by their memory. I will pass, then, beyond memory also, that I may reach Him who has separated me from the four-footed beasts and the fowls of the air, making me wiser than they. I will pass beyond memory also, but where shall I find Thee, O Thou truly good and assured sweetness? But where shall I find Thee? If I find Thee without memory, then am I unmindful of Thee. And how now shall I find Thee, if I do not remember Thee?