A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other.
Interpretation
Every person is inherently complex and unknowable to others, highlighting the uniqueness of human experience.
This quote by Charles Dickens suggests that each individual possesses a depth of personality and complexity that remains a mystery to others. It implies that understanding one another is a lifelong endeavor, as each person's thoughts and experiences are unique and cannot be fully comprehended by someone else, emphasizing both individuality and the human connection.
In practice
In a discussion about the nature of relationships, this quote might illustrate the idea of emotional depth.
I recollected one story there was in the village, how that on a certain night in the year (it might be that very night for anything I knew), all the dead people came out of the ground and sat at the heads of their own graves till morning.
A silent look of affection and regard when all other eyes are turned coldly away-the consciousness that we possess the sympathy and affection of one being when all others have deserted us-is a hold, a stay, a comfort, in the deepest affliction, which no wealth could purchase, or power bestow.
Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts. I was better after I had cried, than before--more sorry, more aware of my own ingratitude, more gentle.
There are not a few among the disciples of charity who require, in their vocation, scarcely less excitement than the votaries of pleasure in theirs.
You might, from your appearance, be the wife of Lucifer,” said Miss Pross, in her breathing. “Nevertheless, you shall not get the better of me. I am an Englishwoman.
Christmas is a poor excuse every 25th of December to pick a man's pockets.
Are we in love with God or just His stuff?
We turn, three men bound by love, by history, by circumstance, and most certainly by the awful grace of God, and together walk a narrow lane where headstones press close all around, reminding me gently of Warren Redstone’s parting wisdom, which I understand now. The dead are never far from us. They’re in our hearts and on our minds and in the end all that separates us from them is a single breath, one final puff of air.
The true friends of the people are neither revolutionaries, nor innovators, but traditionalists.
Man's chief moral deficiency appears to be not his indiscretions but his reticence.
We are doomed to cling to a life even while we find it unendurable.
The idea that public safety, the safety of the innocent, is an absolute which trumps every other consideration, is tacitly abandoned in the way we live.
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