SOC. I will not tell you until I have tried to consider the matter in every way. For I should be ashamed of us, if, in our perplexity, we were forced to make such admissions as those to which I refer. But if we find the object of our quest,

 
and are set free from perplexity, then, and not before, we will speak of others as involved in those absurdities, and we ourselves shall stand free from ridicule. But if we find no escape from our perplexity, we shall, I fancy, become low-spirited, like seasick people, and shall allow the argument to trample on us and do to us anything it pleases. Hear, then, by what means I still see a prospect of success for our quest. THEAET. Do speak. SOC. I shall deny that we were right when we agreed that it is impossible for a man to have opinion that the things he does not know are the things which he knows,
 
and thus to be deceived. But there is a way in which it is possible. THEAET. Do you mean what I myself suspected when we made the statement to which you refer, that sometimes I, though I know Socrates, saw at a distance someone whom I did not know, and thought it was Socrates whom I do know? In such a case false opinion does arise. SOC. But did not we reject that, because it resulted in our knowing and not knowing the things which we know? THEAET. Certainly we did. SOC. Let us, then, not make that assumption, but another; perhaps
 
it will turn out well for us, perhaps the opposite. But we are in such straits that we must turn every argument round and test it from all sides. Now see if this is sensible: Can a man who did not know a thing at one time learn it later? THEAET. To be sure he can. SOC. Again, then, can he learn one thing after another? THEAET. Why not? SOC. Please assume, then, for the sake of argument, that there is in our souls a block of wax, in one case larger, in another smaller, in one case the wax is purer, in another more impure and harder, in some cases softer,
 
and in some of proper quality. THEAET. I assume all that. SOC. Let us, then, say that this is the gift of Memory, the mother of the Muses, and that whenever we wish to remember anything we see or hear or think of in our own minds, we hold this wax under the perceptions and thoughts and imprint them upon it, just as we make impressions from seal rings; and whatever is imprinted we remember and know as long as its image lasts, but whatever is rubbed out or
 
cannot be imprinted we forget and do not know. THEAET. Let us assume that. SOC. Now take a man who knows the things which he sees and hears, and is considering some one of them; observe whether he may not gain a false opinion in the following manner. THEAET. In what manner? SOC. By thinking that the things which he knows are sometimes things which he knows and sometimes things which he does not know. For we were wrong before in agreeing that this is impossible. THEAET. What do you say about it now?