I know that if I'd had to go and take an exam for acting, I

In a voice marked by both humility and strength, the great actress Dame h Evans once said: “I know that if I'd had to go and take an exam for acting, I wouldn't have got anywhere. You don't take exams for acting, you take your courage.” These words, born from the wisdom of a lifetime upon the stage, carry far beyond the world of theatre. They speak to all who must step forward into uncertainty — to those whose destinies depend not on credentials or tests, but on the invisible strength of the spirit. For in every art, and in every great endeavor, the true measure of success is not found in knowledge alone, but in courage — that divine spark which drives the soul to risk, to create, and to become.

h Evans, born in 1888, was one of the towering figures of British theatre, remembered for her commanding voice and her deep humanity. Yet she came from modest beginnings, with no formal training or academic honors to mark her path. In an age when many prized pedigree and education above all, she rose not through privilege but through passion, discipline, and above all, courage. She knew that acting — like all true art — cannot be confined within the walls of classrooms or measured by examination papers. It is born of experience, vulnerability, and the willingness to expose one’s soul before others. Her declaration, then, was not a boast but a truth carved from struggle: that in the theatre of life, it is not intellect alone that wins the role, but bravery of heart.

To “take your courage,” as Evans so beautifully said, is to offer yourself wholly to the moment — to stand upon the stage, literal or metaphorical, and declare, “Here I am.” For courage is not the absence of fear; it is the will to act in spite of it. An actor faces the gaze of hundreds, yet must seem alone and unguarded; a creator must face the blank canvas or page, unsure whether their work will be loved or scorned. Every artist must, in their own way, confront this trial of courage. Evans understood that no examination could test that kind of strength, for it is not learned from books but forged in the crucible of risk.

Throughout history, the greatest breakthroughs — in art, in discovery, in human progress — have come not from those who merely knew, but from those who dared. Consider Galileo Galilei, who defied the authorities of his time to proclaim that the Earth moved around the sun. He took no exam to prove his courage; he lived it. Or think of Rosa Parks, whose quiet refusal to surrender her seat became a thunderclap that changed the course of history. In both art and life, such acts of courage transform the ordinary into the extraordinary. Evans, too, walked this path — stepping into each role not with the safety of certainty, but with the trembling bravery that makes performance real.

The deeper truth of Evans’s words lies in their universality. Though she spoke of acting, her insight applies to every calling. The scholar, the teacher, the healer, the parent — all must take their courage. There comes a moment in every life when knowledge and preparation fall away, and only the heart remains to carry us forward. In that moment, it is not the mind’s calculations that guide us, but the soul’s conviction. The world often measures worth by credentials, yet it is courage that breathes life into talent, transforming potential into purpose.

And yet courage does not appear fully formed; it must be cultivated, like a muscle strengthened by struggle. It grows in the small acts of daring — in speaking when silence is easier, in standing when the crowd sits, in trying when failure seems certain. Evans’s life was a testament to this truth: that mastery is not bestowed, but earned through perseverance and boldness. The artist, like the hero, must step again and again into the unknown, trusting that the act of trying itself is the victory.

Let this then be the teaching for all who come after: do not wait for permission to begin. No exam, no institution, no title can grant you what courage alone can awaken. Whether you seek to create beauty, to lead, or to live truthfully, remember the lesson of h Evans — that the greatest qualification for greatness is the bravery to begin. Knowledge refines, but courage ignites; intellect informs, but courage transforms.

For as h Evans reminds us, the heart’s examination is not written on paper, but in the choices we make when fear whispers, “Stay still.” To live, to love, to create — all demand courage. Take it, then, as she did: not from pride, but from purpose. For in every soul lies a hidden stage, and the curtain will rise whether we are ready or not. When it does, let your courage speak — and you will have passed the only test that truly matters.