Artistically I am still a child with a whole life ahead of me to discover and create. I want something, but I won't know what it is until I succeed in doing it.
Alberto GiacomettiRead
I don't know who I am or who I was. I know it less than ever. I do and I don't identify myself with myself. Everything is totally contradictory, but maybe I have remained exactly as I was as a small boy of twelve.
Interpretation
The quote reflects on the complexities of identity and self-understanding, suggesting a disconnect between past and present selves.
Alberto Giacometti's quote expresses the inherent contradictions in the search for identity, revealing that despite the passage of time and experiences, one may feel an enduring connection to their childhood self. This internal struggle highlights the fluidity of self-awareness and the complexities involved in understanding who we truly are amidst the evolving stages of life.
In practice
In a lecture about personal growth, one could use this quote to discuss the nature of identity.
Artistically I am still a child with a whole life ahead of me to discover and create. I want something, but I won't know what it is until I succeed in doing it.
In the past I have never thought about loneliness when working, and I don't think about it now. Yet there must be a reason for the fact that so many people talk about it.
When I see a head from a great distance, it ceases to be a sphere and becomes an extreme confusion falling down into the abyss.
If only someone else could paint what I see, it would be marvellous, because then I wouldnt have to paint at all.
All I can do will only ever be a faint image of what I see and my success will always be less than my failure or perhaps equal to the failure.
I paint and sculpt to get a grip on reality... to protect myself.
Often when religious leaders come together, they talk about a particular sexual ethic, or an abstruse doctrine, as though this, rather than compassion, was the test of spiritual life.
I find more and more, as I grow older, that I prefer women to men, children to adults, animals to humans.... And rocks to living things? No, I'm not that old yet.
I shall strive not to be guilty of adding any fuel to the flames of hatred and passion which, if continued to be fed, promise to burn up whatever is left by the war of decent human feeling in Europe.
All her knowledge is gone now. Everything she ever learned, or heard, or saw. Her particular way of looking at Hamlet or daisies or thinking about love, all her private intricate thoughts, her inconsequential secret musings – they’re gone too. I heard this expression once: Each time someone dies, a library burns. I’m watching it burn right to the ground.
We want to avoid suffering, death, sin, ashes. But we live in a world crushed and broken and torn, a world God Himself visited to redeem. We receive his poured-out life, and being allowed the high privilege of suffering with Him, may then pour ourselves out for others.
What can the harvest hope for, if not for the care of the Reaper Man?
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