The ear disapproves but tolerates certain musical pieces; transfer them into the domain of our nose, and we will be forced to flee.
And history becomes legend and legend becomes history.
Interpretation
What this quote means
The quote suggests that what we understand as history evolves into legend, and over time, those legends become part of historical narrative.
Jean Cocteauβs quote reveals the fluid nature of history and storytelling. It emphasizes how the past is often remembered not just for its factual occurrences, but as narratives that are embellished and transformed into legends. This transformation reflects the way cultures retain and celebrate their stories, sometimes prioritizing symbolism and moral lessons over strict historical accuracy. Ultimately, it suggests that the way we perceive our history is shaped by our interpretations and the collective memory of society.
Themes
In practice
Example use cases
In a speech about cultural heritage, one might quote this to illustrate how historical narratives shape national identity.
More from Jean Cocteau
All quotes βOne must be a living man and a posthumous artist.
All good music resembles something. Good music stirs by its mysterious resemblance to the objects and feelings which motivated it.
Nothing ever gets anywhere. The earth keeps turning round and gets nowhere. The moment is the only thing that counts.
Listen carefully to first criticisms made of your work. Note just what it is about your work that critics don't like - then cultivate it. That's the only part of your work that's individual and worth keeping.
Watch yourself all your life in a mirror and you'll see Death at work like bees in a glass hive.
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Every living being is an engine geared to the wheelwork of the universe. Though seemingly affected only by its immediate surrounding, the sphere of external influence extends to infinite distance.
Suicide is not abominable because God prohibits it; God prohibits it because it is abominable.
Alas, nothing reveals man the way war does. Nothing so accentuates in him the beauty and ugliness, the intelligence and foolishness, the brutishness and humanity, the courage and cowardice, the enigma.
The sail, the play of its pulse so like our own lives: so thin and yet so full of life, so noiseless when it labors hardest, so noisy and impatient when least effective.
Never ask while you are doing it if what you are doing is fun. Don't introduce even your most reliably witty acquaintance as someone who will set the table on a roar.