" What went through the mind of Christ between the sunset hour when the Roman
soldier drove the first nail through his flesh, and the hour when he died? For these thoughts would determine not only how he accepted his fate, but
also the position of his body on the cross. Donatello’s Christ accepted in serenity, and thought nothing. Brunelleschi’s Christ was so ethereal that he died at the first touch of the nail, and had no time to think.
He returned to his workbench, began exploring his mind with charcoal and ink. On Christ’s face appeared the expression, “I am in agony, not from the iron nails, but form the rust of doubt.” He could not bring himself to convey Christ’s divinity by anything so obvious as a halo; it had to be portrayed through an inner force, strong enough to conquer his misgivings at this hour of severest trial.
It was inevitable that his Christ would be closer to man than to God. He did not know that he was to be crucified. He neither wanted it nor liked it. And as a result his body was twisted in conflict, torn, like all men, by inner
questioning.
When he was ready to begin carving he had before him a new concept: he turned
Christ’s head and knees in opposite directions, establishing through his contrapuntal design a graphic tension, the intense physical and spiritual
inner conflict of a man who is being pulled two ways. "

― Irving Stone , The Agony and the Ecstasy