I got really into Martin Scorsese as a teenager, so then it was

Hear, O dreamers and seekers of inspiration, the words of Adam Scott, who declared: “I got really into Martin Scorsese as a teenager, so then it was kind of the whole reason I wanted to be an actor. Just like tons of young actors, I think, get freaked out by the Scorsese/DeNiro movies. I loved all his movies in the '90s, too. Then I got a part in The Aviator and couldn’t believe it.” In these words shines the eternal story of passion awakened, of a young heart set aflame by art, and of the wonder of one day standing face-to-face with the very dream that once seemed unreachable.

The meaning is thus: as a youth, Scott was moved by the films of Scorsese, whose craft of cinema cut into the soul with its raw energy and truth. To watch the great partnership of Scorsese and DeNiro was, for him—as for many young actors—a revelation. It was as if the screen itself had opened a window into possibility, whispering that life could be larger, deeper, more powerful when expressed through the art of acting. And so the boy, stirred by images of power and humanity, chose his path. His destiny was born not in silence, but in the fire of cinematic vision.

The ancients too knew such awakenings. Consider Alexander the Great, who as a youth read of Achilles in the Iliad. In those verses, the young Macedonian prince found not only admiration, but a model for his life. The hero of legend became the spark for Alexander’s own journey toward greatness. So it was with Scott: Scorsese’s films became his Iliad, DeNiro his Achilles, and through them he was called to the stage and the screen. Art gave birth to vocation, just as stories once gave birth to warriors.

History offers another witness in the life of Beethoven, who as a young man revered Mozart and Haydn. Their music ignited in him a vision of what could be. And though he would one day meet his idols, he did not remain a mere imitator, but grew into his own voice, shaping symphonies that thunder across centuries. Likewise, when Scott finally received a part in Scorsese’s The Aviator, he could hardly believe that he stood within the world once only seen from afar. The student had entered the temple of his masters, and from that moment, his path was forever changed.

Scott’s words remind us that admiration is not mere fandom—it is fuel. To be “freaked out” by the power of Scorsese and DeNiro is not weakness, but reverence, the trembling awe that precedes the courage to follow. For those who feel such awe are often those destined to create themselves. Inspiration is the seed; persistence is the water; opportunity is the sunlight. And when all converge, the dream that once seemed impossible becomes the reality of one’s own life.

The lesson, therefore, is this: cherish the works that move you, for they are the compass of your destiny. Do not dismiss your admiration as childish or fleeting, for within it lies the whisper of who you are meant to be. Seek out the masters of your craft, not to worship them, but to learn from their fire. And when the day comes that you step into their world, do not be astonished to find that you belong there—for your heart has been training for it all along.

What, then, should you do? Remember the first time a book, a song, or a film shook your soul. Hold onto that memory, for it is the key to your path. Study those who came before you, as Scott studied Scorsese, and let their brilliance shape your resolve. When opportunities arise, step into them with courage, even if disbelief trembles within you. For the circle of inspiration is eternal: those who were once moved will one day move others in turn.

Thus let Adam Scott’s words be remembered: “Then I got a part in The Aviator and couldn’t believe it.” For this is the cry of every dreamer who dares to walk toward the light of their heroes. And so may you, too, live in such a way that what once seemed distant and untouchable becomes the very stage upon which you stand, not as a spectator, but as a creator of wonder for the generations yet to come.