Half-finished. Like most of us

He closed the harpsichord. "We're the ones who glimpse, and reach, and fall back. There's a Leo in all of us but he's usually dead by the time we're twenty."

"What are you then?"

"Me? Oh, reluctantly, a conductor." Standing up, he carefully locked the keyboard with a small brass key from his chain. "I can't even play the thing", he said, tapping the bleached lid with his elegant fingers. "I tell myself I will one day; I'll take lessons or get a book. But I don't really care: I've learnt to live with being half-finished. Like most of us".

John Le Carre, A Small Town In Germany (1968), p. 219