I prepare myself for rehearsals like I would for marriage.

“I prepare myself for rehearsals like I would for marriage.” — Maria Callas

In these intimate and powerful words, Maria Callas, the great soprano of the twentieth century, reveals the sacred gravity with which she approached her art. To Callas, rehearsal was not a mere formality, nor a technical process — it was a ritual of devotion, a covenant between the soul and its craft. By comparing preparation for the stage to marriage, she was not speaking lightly. She was describing a union built upon love, discipline, sacrifice, and trust — the total surrender of self to something greater. Her words unveil a truth that transcends music: that greatness, in any pursuit, is born not of talent alone, but of reverence.

The origin of this quote lies in Callas’s own life of rigorous artistry. Known for her passion and perfectionism, she gave every ounce of herself to the operatic stage. She practiced until her voice and her being were indistinguishable from the roles she embodied — whether as Tosca, Norma, or Lucia di Lammermoor. Her preparation was legendary, her rehearsals grueling, because she understood that to perform truthfully before others, one must first offer oneself completely to the work. In her eyes, a rehearsal was not a rehearsal at all — it was a marriage between spirit and song, a lifelong vow to the pursuit of beauty.

Like all marriages, this union demanded both passion and pain. Callas endured loneliness, harsh criticism, and personal sacrifice. She faced the frailty of her own body and the unrelenting pressure of fame, yet she never wavered in her fidelity to her art. In every note she sang, there was not only skill but commitment, not only emotion but discipline. Her preparation for each role mirrored the sacred vows of marriage: to honor, to cherish, and to remain faithful — even when the world outside grew dark. To her, art was not a performance to be admired; it was a life to be lived, a relationship that demanded everything.

The ancients would have understood her wisdom well. In Greece — the land of Callas’s ancestry — the philosophers and poets spoke often of eros, the divine passion that binds the mortal to the eternal. The sculptor, the musician, the warrior — all were married to their craft, their devotion transforming labor into worship. The story of Pygmalion, who fell in love with the statue he himself had carved, mirrors Callas’s relationship to her art: creation and creator bound in sacred union, each giving life to the other. Her words echo this ancient truth — that to truly create, one must first love what one serves.

Consider, too, how her metaphor illuminates the nature of excellence itself. In marriage, love alone is not enough; there must be patience, humility, and endurance. Likewise, in art or any meaningful labor, inspiration is only the beginning. One must prepare — not for the applause, but for the moments unseen, when devotion is tested and fatigue whispers surrender. Callas’s life teaches that mastery is not achieved in moments of triumph, but in the quiet hours of practice — the unseen rehearsals where the soul learns to remain steadfast.

And yet, her quote also carries a deep emotional wisdom about love itself. To prepare for marriage, one must look inward — to strengthen the heart, to temper pride, to learn the art of giving oneself completely. In likening rehearsals to marriage, Callas was reminding the world that art is not a transaction, but a transformation. The artist, like the lover, is forever changed by what they devote themselves to. When she sang, it was not merely her voice that filled the opera house — it was her life, her pain, her faith, her entire being.

Let this be the lesson passed to all who seek greatness: treat your calling as sacred. Whether you are an artist, a scholar, a builder, or a dreamer, approach your work not as labor, but as a covenant. Prepare for it as you would prepare for love — with patience, humility, and devotion. Do not seek perfection without sacrifice, or passion without discipline. As Maria Callas teaches, the highest art — like the deepest marriage — is not about performance, but about presence. To prepare as she did is to live with purpose, to serve something greater than oneself, and to honor the divine spark that breathes meaning into human endeavor.