"You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.'"
About this Quote
Fear here isn’t a metaphorical dragon; it’s a civic reality, a private crisis, a recurring headline. Eleanor Roosevelt frames courage as an earned asset, not a personality trait, and she does it with the unsentimental clarity of someone who watched a century’s worth of “unthinkable” events become routine. The phrase “really stop to look fear in the face” rejects the American habit of converting anxiety into distraction, productivity, or performative optimism. She’s prescribing attention. Don’t outrun dread; audit it.
The sentence structure matters: “strength, courage, and confidence” arrives as a triad, then she quietly demystifies it through repetition and proof. Not “you were fine,” but “you lived through this horror.” She uses “horror” deliberately, refusing to soften the experience into a self-help anecdote. That word also functions as permission: if what happened to you feels monstrous, you’re not being dramatic. Then comes the real subtextual pivot: the reward is not fearlessness; it’s narrative control. “You are able to say to yourself...” positions the inner monologue as the battleground. Resilience is language you can reliably reach for under stress.
Context sharpens the intent. Roosevelt’s public life was built around confronting suffering without turning away: the Great Depression, war, displacement, civil rights battles, institutional sexism, and a marriage lived under scrutiny. As First Lady who reshaped the role into moral advocacy, she’s telling citizens that character is a muscle exercised in the worst rooms, not the best ones. The final line, “I can take the next thing,” lands like stoic pragmatism. No promise of victory, only a sturdy readiness for the inevitable next wave.
The sentence structure matters: “strength, courage, and confidence” arrives as a triad, then she quietly demystifies it through repetition and proof. Not “you were fine,” but “you lived through this horror.” She uses “horror” deliberately, refusing to soften the experience into a self-help anecdote. That word also functions as permission: if what happened to you feels monstrous, you’re not being dramatic. Then comes the real subtextual pivot: the reward is not fearlessness; it’s narrative control. “You are able to say to yourself...” positions the inner monologue as the battleground. Resilience is language you can reliably reach for under stress.
Context sharpens the intent. Roosevelt’s public life was built around confronting suffering without turning away: the Great Depression, war, displacement, civil rights battles, institutional sexism, and a marriage lived under scrutiny. As First Lady who reshaped the role into moral advocacy, she’s telling citizens that character is a muscle exercised in the worst rooms, not the best ones. The final line, “I can take the next thing,” lands like stoic pragmatism. No promise of victory, only a sturdy readiness for the inevitable next wave.
Quote Details
| Topic | Confidence |
|---|---|
| Source | You Learn by Living: Eleven Keys for a More Fulfilling Life, Eleanor Roosevelt, 1960 (contains the passage beginning "You gain strength, courage, and confidence...") |
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