Sometimes there are no words to describe the kind of depth you thought to be unimaginable.

"a1.1 Writing in the first person is an advantage, but it is also akin to amputation. a1.2 We are told what is happening in the presence of the narrator, what he is thinking (should he wish to divulge his thoughts), a1.3 what he is saying and doing and what those who are with him are saying and doing, but not what they are thinking, except when what is said coincides with what is thought, a1.4 and this is something about which no one can be certain. a1.5 If my friends were characters out of a novel written not by me or one of them but by a third party other than ourselves (the author), each one of us would only have to read this novel in order to become as omniscient as the author himself presumes to be. And so, since they a1.6 are as real as I am and a1.7 just as reserved or a1.8 not so open that others might a1.9 truly say "I know," and because I a2.0 can only convey some of my thoughts in this narrative which is not a novel, a2.1 I resign myself to ignorance, to the impenetrable a2.2 nature of faces and a2.3 the words those faces utter a2.4 (it is the faces that speak, the faces that understand), a2.5 and I shall go on speaking about my friends without knowing what they are thinking, a2.6 but only what they are saying and doing. a2.7 And even then on condition that they say and do it in my presence, otherwise I shall never know whether they are telling the truth about what they did and said when I was not there. And if they were to tell me any of this a2.8 I should have no way of knowing whether they a2.9 had agreed among themselves what they would tell me if they should testify on behalf of each other. a3.0 If this narrative were not in the first person, I should have found it an even better way of deceiving myself. a3.1 In this way I should be able to imagine every thought as well as every action and word, and in putting them all together a3.2 I would believe in the truth of everything, a3.3 even in any inherent falsehood, because that falsehood, too, would be true. a3.4 The real falsehood is what is unknown a3.5 and not what was merely formulated in accordance. With that hundreth of the hundred ways of formulating what one normally calls a lie."

(Pg95-96 Saramago, Manual of Painting & Calligraphy)