Before I do anything, I think, well what hasn't been seen.

Hear the voice of Jim Carrey, the jester who wears the mask of laughter yet speaks truths that pierce the heart: “Before I do anything, I think, well what hasn’t been seen. Sometimes, that turns out to be something ghastly and not fit for society. And sometimes that inspiration becomes something that’s really worthwhile.” These words reveal the restless hunger of the artist, forever reaching beyond what is familiar, daring to step into uncharted realms where brilliance and madness often meet.

The meaning here is profound. To create, one must ask: what has not been seen? The pursuit of originality demands risk, for the new is not always beautiful—it may be strange, shocking, even ghastly. Yet without risk, without the courage to wander into the wilderness of the unknown, nothing worthwhile is ever brought back to enrich society. Thus, Carrey’s words reflect the eternal struggle of the creator: the dance between failure and triumph, between rejection and revelation.

The ancients knew this struggle. Consider Socrates, who questioned the assumptions of Athens. His words were, to many, ghastly, unfit for polite society, for they unsettled the powerful and exposed the ignorance of the wise. Yet his pursuit of truth birthed philosophy itself, one of the greatest treasures of civilization. In his daring to say what had not been said, he revealed that sometimes what seems unbearable to society at first is later seen as the very foundation of wisdom.

Think also of Vincent van Gogh, whose canvases were once dismissed as mad visions, too chaotic, too raw, too unfit for the galleries of his day. He sought always to paint what had not been seen: the sky alive with movement, the soul bleeding through color. To his contemporaries, it was ghastly. To us, it is among the most worthwhile contributions to art in human history. Here again, Carrey’s words find their echo: the search for the unseen may wander into darkness, but it is also the only path toward the eternal.

Carrey himself embodies this paradox. As a comedian and actor, he often reached for extremes—the wild face, the absurd gesture, the grotesque distortion. At times, audiences laughed with unease, unsure if what they saw was genius or lunacy. Yet in roles such as The Truman Show and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, his daring gave birth to performances that transcended comedy and touched the deepest fibers of the human soul. His art shows that the same impulse that produces the ghastly can also produce the sublime.

The lesson is clear: if you would create, if you would live a life of meaning, you must dare to explore the unseen. Do not fear the mistakes, the rejections, the moments when what you produce seems unfit for society. These are the costs of discovery. The treasures that endure—the truths, the beauties, the revolutions—are found only by those willing to risk wandering where others will not. To remain safe is to remain stagnant; to risk failure is to invite greatness.

What, then, must we do? Seek inspiration in what has not yet been done. Embrace both the ghastly and the worthwhile, for they are two sides of the same coin. Be unafraid to bring forth what feels strange, raw, even uncomfortable, for in it may lie the seeds of transformation. And above all, remember that originality is not a luxury but a duty: for only when individuals dare to create the unseen does society evolve, grow, and discover itself anew.

Thus remember: the road to the worthwhile passes through the realm of the uncertain, the shocking, the strange. Jim Carrey’s words remind us that the artist’s courage—to risk creating what has not been seen—guards the flame of progress. Without such daring, humanity would be chained to repetition. With it, we walk boldly into the unknown, and from the unknown bring forth the treasures that endure.