I have heard from certain wise men and women who spoke of things divine that- MENO: What did they say? SOCRATES: They spoke of a glorious truth, as I conceive. MENO: What was it? and who were they? SOCRATES: Some of them were priests and priestesses, who had studied how they might be able to give a reason of their profession: there have been poets also, who spoke of these things by inspiration, like Pindar, and many others who were inspired. And they say-mark, now, and see whether their words are true-they say that the soul of man is immortal, and at one time has an end, which is termed dying, and at another time is born again, but is never destroyed. And the moral is, that a man ought to live always in perfect holiness. 'For in the ninth year Persephone sends the souls of those from whom she has received the penalty of ancient crime back again from beneath into the light of the sun above, and these are they who become noble kings and mighty men and great in wisdom and are called saintly heroes in after ages.' The soul, then, as being immortal, and having been born again many times, and having seen all things that exist, whether in this world or in the world below, has knowledge of them all; and it is no wonder that she should be able to call to remembrance all that she ever
— Plato
Socrates deflects the question here — deflects it deliberately, with care. He will not say this himself. He invokes priests, priestesses, Pindar, "inspired" poets — a chorus of authorizing voices placed between himself and the claim. The soul is immortal. It has seen everything. To learn is to remember. It is a magnificent system, and notice what it does: if the soul already contains all knowledge, then ignorance is not a wound but a condition of forgetting, and the work of philosophy is not to undergo anything but to recollect — to ascend from the darkness of forgetting into the light of what was always there.
That ascent is seductive precisely because it relieves. The soul does not need to be changed; it needs to be reminded. Nothing is genuinely lost, no price is genuinely paid, Persephone eventually sends everyone back up. Even the underworld here is temporary, a place of penalty that exhausts itself and returns the soul to sunlight and noble kingship. What the passage cannot hold is the soul that does not come back up — that finds something in descent that the ascent cancels. The immortality doctrine is generous, even beautiful, and it forecloses exactly the kind of knowing that cannot be remembered because it was never possessed from above.
Plato·Meno·-385