I think that if you go about making movies to win Oscars, you're

Hear now, O seekers of truth, the words of Nicolas Cage, a man both daring and unafraid to walk paths where others tremble: “I think that if you go about making movies to win Oscars, you’re really going about it the wrong way.” At first glance, his words are simple, yet they hold within them a timeless wisdom: that true creation is not born of the hunger for trophies, but of the fire within the soul. For when the artist seeks only reward, the art itself grows hollow; but when the artist seeks truth, beauty, and vision, the reward—even if it comes—is but a shadow to the radiance of the work.

To chase an Oscar is to chase the applause of men, fleeting as smoke in the wind. Awards are given and forgotten, statues are displayed and gather dust. But to chase the essence of storytelling, to carve beauty upon the canvas of cinema, is to create works that endure beyond time. Cage warns us that the heart of the artist must not be enslaved by recognition, for recognition is a fickle master, while sincerity is eternal.

History resounds with this truth. Recall Vincent van Gogh, who painted in poverty and despair, never once crowned by acclaim in his lifetime. Had he pursued the applause of galleries, he may have abandoned his vision. Yet he remained faithful to the fire that burned within him, and now, long after his death, the world stands in awe of the colors he poured onto canvas. His art outlived the silence of his years. So too with cinema: the works remembered are not those crafted to please judges, but those that dared to speak the truth of the human spirit.

Cage himself, though a recipient of the Oscar, reminds us by this quote that such a prize cannot be the compass of the artist. He warns that when directors and actors bend their art to fit the mold of what may be rewarded, they cease to create with honesty. Instead, they fashion masks for the crowd, leaving behind the rawness, the courage, the originality that gives birth to greatness. Thus he teaches us that authenticity is the higher path, and reward may follow—but must never be the guide.

Consider also the tale of the ancient Athenian dramatists, Sophocles, Euripides, and Aeschylus. Though they competed in the grand festivals, their enduring works were not written merely for crowns of laurel, but to grapple with destiny, justice, love, and the gods themselves. The prizes have long faded into dust, but their words still thunder across centuries. What survives is not the award, but the vision.

The lesson, O listener, is clear: in your own life, do not labor only for applause, for recognition, or for the prize of men’s approval. These may come or may not, but they are not the essence. Instead, labor for truth in your craft, honesty in your effort, and faithfulness to your calling. For when you pour yourself fully into your work, it will bear fruit that no trophy could measure.

Therefore, when you create, create for the fire in your heart. When you labor, labor for the integrity of the task itself. When you dream, dream not of statues upon the shelf, but of legacies carved into the memory of humankind. For as Cage reminds us, to chase the prize alone is to walk astray, but to chase the vision is to walk the path of immortality.

And so, let this wisdom be your guide: seek not the reward, but the truth. For if your work is honest, the world may one day honor you; but even if it does not, your creation will stand, radiant, long after applause has faded into silence.