"That is only his
counterfeit. It may be a good counterfeit, but it's not the man. The man I
shall never see. I can see bits of him--his hands, his feet, his arms, and
so on. By shutting one eye I can see something of the shape of his nose. By
thrusting out the upper lip I can see that the fellow wears a moustache.
But his face, as a whole, is hidden from me. I cannot tell you even with
the help of the counterfeit what impression he makes on the beholder. Now,"
I continued, pausing and taking stock of my friend, "I know what you are
like. I take you all in at one glance. You can take me in at a glance. The
only person we can none of us take in at a glance is the person we should
most like to see."
"It's a mercy," said he.
I am not sure that he was right. In this matter, as in most things in this
perplexing world, there is much to be said on both sides. It is lucky for
some of us undoubtedly that we are condemned to be eternal strangers to
ourselves, and that not merely to our physical selves. We do not know even
the sound of our own voices.
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