I designed a sports car, the Cizeta-Moroder, with Marcello

The words of Giorgio Moroder, though wrapped in the glamour of automobiles and wealth, speak to a deeper truth about creation, value, and the dance between art and commerce: “I designed a sports car, the Cizeta-Moroder, with Marcello Gandini from Lamborghini; he did the Countach, of course. The Cizeta cost $600,000, but we could bargain—if a Japanese businessman says he wants it for three, fine.” This is not merely a tale of engineering or bargaining—it is a reflection on the majesty of human creation, the shifting nature of worth, and the humility that even the greatest works must bow before the marketplace.

He begins by naming the Cizeta-Moroder, a rare jewel of machinery, designed in collaboration with Marcello Gandini, whose name itself carries legendary weight as the hand behind the Lamborghini Countach. To create a car is no small thing—it is not only steel and wheels, but the blending of vision, artistry, and engineering discipline. In this union of Moroder, the master of sound, and Gandini, the master of form, we glimpse a truth of the ancients: that greatness is born when different gifts are brought together in harmony.

The price—$600,000—seems vast, but it speaks to the value placed upon rarity and mastery. Such a machine is not a mere vehicle; it is a sculpture of speed, a chariot of desire, the crystallization of thousands of hours of labor. Yet Moroder reminds us, almost with a smile, that even such magnificence is subject to the winds of negotiation. If a buyer wishes to pay less, then the price may fall. Thus is revealed a paradox of human endeavor: that what is priceless in the heart of the creator must still find its place in the marketplace of men.

History gives us parallels. Michelangelo’s David, perhaps the most perfect sculpture of man ever wrought, was created under commission and price. The marble itself had languished for decades, dismissed as flawed and useless, until his genius revealed its glory. Though today it is beyond price, at its birth it too was bound by contracts and bargaining. Moroder’s words echo this ancient tension: the creator’s vision lives in eternity, but its first steps must pass through the world of trade and coin.

There is also humility in his tone. He does not cling to the $600,000 as though it were sacred. Instead, he admits, “if a Japanese businessman says he wants it for three, fine.” This is not defeat but wisdom. For the true joy lies not in the number of coins received, but in seeing the creation take life in the hands of another. The creator’s heart rejoices that the work is valued at all, that someone desires to own and to honor it. In this, Moroder reminds us that value is fluid—it is not fixed in marble, but shaped by circumstance, desire, and opportunity.

The lesson is clear: when you create, do so with passion and mastery, but do not bind your heart to the price. Build your Cizeta, paint your David, write your song, not for gold but for the glory of expression. Let the world set its value as it will, but let your own measure of success be the fire of creation itself. For true worth lies not in bargaining, but in the courage to bring forth what did not exist before.

Therefore, children of the future, remember this teaching: the market may haggle, the buyers may bargain, but your labor, your vision, your creation—that is eternal. Do not be ashamed if it sells for less than you dreamed, nor proud if it sells for more. For coin is fleeting, but creation endures. As Giorgio Moroder and Gandini brought forth a machine that still stirs the hearts of men, so too may your works, born of discipline and passion, live beyond the reach of gold.

Thus his words become not merely a tale of cars and cost, but an eternal reminder: create with all your heart, and let the price take care of itself. For the true measure of greatness is not what men pay for your work, but what your work awakens in their souls.