"If you are not persuaded by that, Simmias," said Socrates, "see if you agree when examining it this way. You are skeptical about how what is called learning is recollection?" "I am not so much skeptical," said Simmias, "but I need to experience the very thing the argument is about: to recollect. Thanks to Cebes's undertaking, I almost remember and am persuaded already. Nevertheless, I would gladly hear how you would attempt to speak of it." "In this way," he said. "We agree, surely, that if someone is going to recollect something, he must have known it at some previous time." "Certainly," he said. "Do we also agree on this: that whenever knowledge comes in a certain way, it is recollection? What way do I mean? Suppose someone, upon seeing, hearing, or receiving some other perception of a thing, not only knows that thing but also thinks of another thing, the knowledge of which is different. Would we not justly say that he recollected the thing he thought of?" "How do you mean?" "For example: knowledge of a man and knowledge of a lyre are different." "Of course." "You know what happens to lovers when they see a lyre, a cloak, or anything else their beloved is accustomed to use: they recognize the lyre, and simultaneously in their minds they grasp the form of the boy to whom the lyre belongs. This is recollection. Similarly, someone seeing Simmias often recollects Cebes, and there would be countless other examples." "Countless indeed, by Zeus," said Simmias. "Is this sort of thing not a kind of recollection? Especially when it happens concerning things that time and inattention have made one forget?" "Absolutely," he said. "What about this: is it possible, upon seeing a painted horse or a painted lyre, to recollect a man? Or upon seeing a painting of Simmias, to recollect Cebes?" "Yes, definitely." "And upon seeing a painting of Simmias, to recollect Simmias himself?" "It is possible," he said.