I want to establish a wide range and play all kinds of parts.

In the words of Tim Curry we hear the cry of the true artist: “I want to establish a wide range and play all kinds of parts. It’s that sort of acting career I really respect. I like to turn a sharp left from whatever I’ve done before because that keeps me awake. That’s why I want to be an actor—I don’t want to play endless variations on one character.” These words shine with the fire of a restless spirit, one that refuses to be bound by repetition or dulled by comfort. In them, Curry reveals not only his own calling, but the eternal truth that creativity thrives in change, and that life itself is a stage demanding courage to embrace variety.

To seek a wide range is to reject the prison of sameness. Many are content to live within familiar roles, repeating what is safe and known. But the artist, like the explorer, longs to venture beyond the horizon. Curry’s desire to embody different parts mirrors the human yearning for transformation, for becoming more than what we were yesterday. Just as the seasons shift and the stars chart new paths across the night sky, so too must the spirit move and change, lest it grow stagnant.

The image of taking a sharp left is vivid. It is not a gentle drift or a cautious step, but a sudden turning away from the expected. This is the path of the daring—those who abandon the well-worn road to find one unseen. In history, the greatest innovators have always taken such turns. Think of Picasso, who after mastering realism abandoned it to create cubism, shocking the world with visions no one had dared imagine. Or of David Bowie, who constantly reinvented himself, never content to linger in one musical skin. Curry, too, sought to remain awake, alive to the electricity of change, by refusing the dullness of repetition.

To speak of respect for such a career is to place value not on fame or wealth but on artistic integrity. The world often rewards predictability, for it is easier to sell what is familiar. But the artist’s true honor lies in challenging both themselves and their audience. Curry’s respect is for those who risk obscurity or criticism in order to pursue authenticity, those who would rather stumble in new terrain than march endlessly in the same circle.

This truth stretches beyond the world of acting. In life itself, many fall into the trap of playing “endless variations on one character.” They become bound by the roles given to them—worker, parent, citizen—repeating the same patterns until they forget the depth of who they might be. Curry’s declaration is a call to all of us: do not let yourself be defined by one story alone. You are capable of a thousand transformations. You are not fixed, but fluid, ever able to grow, to turn, to become.

History gives us heroes who embodied this lesson. Consider Leonardo da Vinci, who was not merely a painter, but also a scientist, engineer, and dreamer of flying machines. Had he confined himself to one role, his genius would have been diminished. Instead, he embraced the fullness of his range, moving sharply from art to science to invention, always awake, always restless. In him, as in Curry’s vision, we see the nobility of refusing to be one thing when one can be many.

The lesson is thus clear: embrace variety, seek transformation, and resist the chains of sameness. In your own life, do not be afraid to take sharp turns, to pursue unexpected paths, to honor the restless call within you. If you are an artist, do not repeat yourself endlessly; if you are not, still remember that life itself is art, and you are both actor and playwright. Let your range be wide, your characters many, your story alive with change.

So let Curry’s words awaken in you the courage to refuse comfort when it becomes a cage. Respect not only those who dare to live many lives, but respect yourself enough to seek the same. For to be truly alive is to remain awake, and to remain awake is to walk always toward the unknown, carrying with you the fire of transformation.