The ear disapproves but tolerates certain musical pieces; transfer them into the domain of our nose, and we will be forced to flee.
Jean CocteauRead
The worst tragedy for a poet is to be admired through being misunderstood.
Interpretation
A poet suffers when others admire their work without truly understanding it.
This quote by Jean Cocteau highlights the tragic irony faced by poets and artists when their creations are appreciated for superficial reasons rather than a deep understanding of their true intentions and meanings. The disconnect between the artist's vision and the audience's comprehension can be disheartening, as genuine appreciation involves a profound connection to the art itself rather than mere admiration.
In practice
In a speech at a literary event.
The ear disapproves but tolerates certain musical pieces; transfer them into the domain of our nose, and we will be forced to flee.
One 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.
No one will ever know what 'In Cold Blood' took out of me. It scraped me right down to the marrow of my bones. It nearly killed me. I think, in a way, it did kill me.
Good story' means something worth telling that the world wants to hear. Finding this is your lonely task...But the love of a good story, of terrific characters and a world driven by your passion, courage, and creative gifts is still not enough. Your goal must be a good story well told.
A caricature is putting the face of a joke on the body of a truth.
Lord, heap miseries upon us yet entwine our arts with laughters low.
Living here on Earth, we breathe the rhythms of a universe that extends infinitely above us. When resonant harmonies arise between this vast outer cosmos and the inner human cosmos, poetry is born.
Music from my fourth year began to be the first of my youthful occupations. Thus early acquainted with the gracious muse who tuned my soul to pure harmonies, I became fond of her, and, as it often seemed to me, she of me.
Subscribe for the occasional hand-picked quote. No noise.