Design is important, it's an important dimension in the car. It's

“Design is important, it's an important dimension in the car. It's not the only one.” Thus spoke Carlos Ghosn, a man who once stood at the helm of great enterprises, where art met engineering and beauty met precision. His words may seem humble, but they carry the weight of an ancient truth—that form alone does not make greatness, and that balance is the foundation of all enduring creation. For though the car gleams with the elegance of design, its worth lies also in what cannot be seen—in its strength, its performance, its soul.

In the wisdom of the ancients, the builders of temples and ships knew this lesson well. The marble columns of Athens were crafted with grace, yes, but also with mathematics, geometry, and the measured harmony of forces unseen. Beauty without function was considered vanity, a hollow idol without spirit. Ghosn, in the world of modern machines, echoes that same eternal understanding: that design is the face, but purpose is the heart. To worship one without the other is to build on sand.

Every craftsman, every creator, faces this same tension. The painter may be tempted by color alone and forget the story behind it; the architect may chase beauty and forget the people who will live within his walls. Likewise, in the making of a car, one might be seduced by the curve of the metal, the shimmer of the paint, the luxury of the interior—and forget the engineering, the efficiency, the endurance that gives the creation its truth. Ghosn’s words remind us that true mastery is not the triumph of one element, but the harmony of all.

Consider the story of the Wright brothers, whose flying machine gave wings to mankind. They did not seek to make the most beautiful craft, nor the most dazzling. Others before them had built aircrafts more elegant to the eye—but they failed, for their beauty lacked balance. The Wrights understood that design must serve function, that every curve of wood, every stretch of canvas, must answer to the laws of air and motion. Their creation was not graceful by sight alone, but by purpose—and because of that, it flew. Their success proves Ghosn’s truth: design matters, but it must never stand alone.

So too in life itself. Many live as if appearance were everything—polishing the surface while neglecting the substance within. They design their image but not their soul. Yet a well-lived life, like a well-built car, must be both beautiful and capable. Its design must serve its direction. Without integrity, beauty fades; without purpose, success crumbles. The wise do not reject design—they embrace it as one part of a greater whole, where function, vision, and meaning move together like gears in perfect harmony.

In business, in art, in living, the balance between form and essence is the mark of the true creator. The engineer without imagination builds lifeless machines; the artist without practicality creates fragile dreams. But the one who joins both—who shapes beauty that serves purpose—builds something eternal. That is the wisdom Ghosn speaks of, hidden behind the language of cars but echoing through every craft of humankind.

So let this be your teaching: honor design, but do not worship it. Let your work be not only beautiful, but good. Seek elegance, but also endurance. Ask not only, How does it look? but How does it live? Whether you build cars, write songs, or shape your destiny, remember this sacred balance. For true creation, like a well-made machine, moves through time not because of how it shines, but because of how it works.

And in that balance—between art and purpose, between appearance and truth—you will find the key not only to great design, but to a great life.