Remembering is only a new form of suffering.

I felt myself still reliving a past which was no longer anything more than the history of another person;

How to resist nothingness? What power
Preserves what once was, if memory does not last?
For I remember little. I remember so very little.

The pleasure of remembering had been taken from me, because there was no longer anyone to remember with. It felt like losing your co-rememberer meant losing the memory itself, as if the things we'd done were less real and important than they had been hours before.

One is alone when the last one who remembers is gone.

The being that I shall be after death has no more reason to remember the man I have been since my birth than the latter to remember what I was before it.

So it is the old meat after all, no matter how old. Because if memory exists outside of the flesh it wont be memory because it wont know what it remembers so when she became not then half of memory became not and if I become not then all of remembering will cease to be. — Yes he thought Between grief and nothing I will take grief.

With the attempt to self-remember many new sensations begin to awaken in man, particularly sensations connected with his own existence and his relation to the surrounding world. And these in turn may give rise to the realization of the different influences playing upon him and to the possibility of choosing between them.

The terror of being judged sharpens the memory: it sends an inevitable glare over that long-unvisited past which has been habitually recalled only in general phrases. Even without memory, the life is bound into one by a zone of dependence in growth and decay; but intense memory forces a man to own his blameworthy past. With memory set smarting like a reopened wound, a man’s past is not simply a dead history, an outworn preparation of the present: it is not a repented error shaken loose from the life: it is a still quivering part of himself, bringing shudders and bitter flavors and the tinglings of a merited shame.

The patient cannot remember the whole of what is repressed in him, and what he cannot remember may be precisely the essential part of it.. He is obliged to repeat the repressed material as a contemporary experience instead of remembering it as something in the past.

Were a man to be totally deprived of memory, he would be incapable of forming any just opinion; everything about him would seem a chaos: he would have even his own history to ask from every one; and by not knowing how the world went in his absence, he would be at a loss to know how it ought to go on when he recovered, or rather, returned to it again. In like manner, though in a less degree, a too great inattention to past occurrences retards and bewilders our judgment in everything; while, on the contrary, by comparing what is past with what is present, we frequently hit on the true character of both, and become wise with very little trouble.

I think this man is suffering from memories.

Odd as it may seem, I am my remembering self, and the experiencing self, who does my living, is like a stranger to me.

… when she became not then half of memory became not and if I become not then all of remembering will cease to be. — Yes, he thought, between grief and nothing I will take grief.