"You have always given me more than I gave to you. You were the wings on which I soared"
About this Quote
Gratitude can be a kind of confession, and Lehmann frames it that way: not as a tidy thank-you, but as an admission of imbalance. "You have always given me more than I gave to you" rejects the polite myth that relationships are best when they’re perfectly reciprocal. She’s naming a debt that can’t be repaid, which is exactly what makes the sentiment feel earned rather than ceremonial.
Then she pivots to the line that does the real emotional work: "You were the wings on which I soared". It’s an image borrowed from the physics of flight, but emotionally it’s about permission. Wings aren’t the destination; they’re the apparatus that makes ambition viable. Lehmann, a singer whose art depended on breath, support, and unseen infrastructure, chooses a metaphor that honors the invisible labor behind achievement. It’s also a subtle refusal of the lone-genius narrative. Her soaring is hers, but it’s enabled, steadied, and perhaps even taught by someone else.
There’s subtext in the pronouns, too: "you" is singular and intimate, suggesting a patron, mentor, spouse, teacher, accompanist, or confidant - the kind of figure history tends to footnote while spotlighting the star. Coming from a major early 20th-century performer who navigated prestige institutions and volatile politics, the line reads like a private acknowledgment pushed into public view. It’s not self-erasure; it’s a recalibration of credit, insisting that artistry is rarely a solo act, even when the applause pretends otherwise.
Then she pivots to the line that does the real emotional work: "You were the wings on which I soared". It’s an image borrowed from the physics of flight, but emotionally it’s about permission. Wings aren’t the destination; they’re the apparatus that makes ambition viable. Lehmann, a singer whose art depended on breath, support, and unseen infrastructure, chooses a metaphor that honors the invisible labor behind achievement. It’s also a subtle refusal of the lone-genius narrative. Her soaring is hers, but it’s enabled, steadied, and perhaps even taught by someone else.
There’s subtext in the pronouns, too: "you" is singular and intimate, suggesting a patron, mentor, spouse, teacher, accompanist, or confidant - the kind of figure history tends to footnote while spotlighting the star. Coming from a major early 20th-century performer who navigated prestige institutions and volatile politics, the line reads like a private acknowledgment pushed into public view. It’s not self-erasure; it’s a recalibration of credit, insisting that artistry is rarely a solo act, even when the applause pretends otherwise.
Quote Details
| Topic | Gratitude |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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