Which, needless to say, he did not mean as a defense of the sort of secrecy that manifests as lies or deception, and that a person might inflict on their beloved, and then hide or obscure, due to a narrowness of spirit, or a lack of courage, or a refusal to open themself to whatever reaction, spontaneously elicited, and rightly warranted, might require them to witness the extent of the injury their furtiveness will have caused, and then to make amends for it (if amends are possible); but of that existential secrecy that involves not our morality, nor any deeds we may or may not do, but our very being, our inmost life, our identity that belonged to us before we were named, and of which everyone, at all times, is in possession, so that each of us, in some way, is unknowable, even to our most cherished friends, though not, perhaps, to ourselves and to God.