If any one faculty of our nature may be called more wonderful than the rest, I do think it is memory…The memory is sometimes so retentive, so serviceable, so obedient; at others, so bewildered and so weak…We are, to be sure, a miracle every way; but our powers of recollecting and of forgetting do seem peculiarly past finding out.
My take on this:
We are a memory: A physiological memory beyond the individual’s own life experiences. Like migratory birds that have the memory of their annual migration, we are altogether the actualization and reenactment of all we have memorized. When everything else become unfamiliar, we act upon the ancestral memory built in everyone of us. Instinct is a ancestral package of fundamental memory, still memory.
our own memories are indeed a treasured virtual manuscript: Some share it as stories, some write about it, some others compose music, based on it. In a form or another we all want to share it, and pass it on.