All artistic motivations are fleeting, except those that stem from the true recognition of the value of experience and the nobility of striving to represent it in a work that will remain when time consumes them. To be an artist, in short, is to have art as something that justifies a lifetime’s effort. This, it is true, usually only happens to those who, deeply affected, strip away their vanity to recognize in someone else the model of what they want to be: in a burst of humility, they turn gratitude into motivation.
Category: Notes
Almost Always, Not Much Is Needed…
Almost always, not much is needed for a big decision. But it is necessary to make it and stick to it; it is necessary to honor it. The greatest effort, therefore, is subsequent, and involves converting a state of mind into practice, transmuting an impression into value. This cannot be done without an effective inner change: it is then easy to see that the great decision transforms, and is great because of the lasting effect that follows it and does not allow itself to be corrupted.
It Is Hard to Imagine How a Minimally Upright…
It is hard to imagine how a minimally upright personality can be consolidated without cultivating loyalty. Because without it, everything dissolves. The founding consistency of a personality is the little bit of loyalty it has. It is that immutable, sure thing, that essence that time accentuates, that line that cannot be crossed without disfigurement. It is around it that everything else develops; without it, no virtue can sustain itself and is limited to be sporadic whatever good that comes along.
The Most Damaging Thing About Fame…
The most damaging thing about fame seems to be that it clouds the judgment so sneakily, so imperceptibly that, viewed from a distance, the famous seem to have lost track of himself. In the face of this, vanity is a detail. Paul Johnson’s book comes to mind once again—a book that seems to have been written so as never to stray from memory. We think of those, and others, to whom fame has given its treacherous embrace, and we see how destructive it has been to their conscience, how ugly it seems to us the manifestation of the very high concept they had of themselves in front of others. Sometimes the most common criticism of the Stoics is nothing more than temperamental implication: a Marcus Aurelius, when compared to a Rousseau, is much more than a great sage.