The word courage - God, I love that word. Words are so important

“The word courage — God, I love that word. Words are so important to me.”
Thus spoke Peter Fonda, the son of a legendary film dynasty and a seeker of truth in an age of rebellion and change. In these simple, fervent words, he revealed not only his reverence for language, but also his deep belief in the power of courage—that sacred fire that burns within the human soul and drives it to act, to speak, to live authentically. His words remind us that language is not mere sound—it is spirit, and that certain words, when truly understood, contain within them the heartbeat of humanity itself. “Courage,” for Fonda, was not just a virtue; it was a calling.

To understand the origin of this quote, one must understand Fonda himself—an artist born in the shadow of giants, yet destined to carve his own path. Rising to fame during the turbulent 1960s, he was both witness and participant in an era that demanded courage from all who dared to think freely. His film Easy Rider was not merely a cinematic journey, but a cultural revelation—an anthem to freedom, rebellion, and the yearning for authenticity. Through it, Fonda and his generation spoke a language that broke the silence of conformity. So when he said, “God, I love that word,” he was not speaking casually. He was honoring a force that defined his life—the courage to defy, to create, to speak truth in an age of fear.

But what, then, is courage? The ancients taught that courage is not the absence of fear, but the mastery of it. Aristotle called it the golden mean between cowardice and recklessness—the steady strength of one who acts rightly, even when the heart trembles. To love the word “courage,” as Fonda did, is to love that divine struggle within oneself: the moment when the voice of truth overcomes the whisper of doubt. Words, to him, were bridges between the unseen and the spoken; and of all words, “courage” was the one that carried both fire and tenderness, both defiance and grace.

Let us turn to a tale from history—the story of Joan of Arc, the peasant girl who heard the call of heaven and dared to lead armies into battle. When questioned by kings and condemned by priests, she stood firm, saying, “I am not afraid, for God is with me.” In her, we see the living embodiment of what Fonda adored in the word: courage born not of anger or pride, but of conviction. She did not fight for glory or fame, but for the truth that burned within her heart. Her courage spoke louder than her voice, and even in death, it echoed across centuries. To love courage is to love such souls—to revere the light that refuses to go out, even in darkness.

Yet Fonda’s words also remind us that words themselves are sacred vessels. “Words are so important to me,” he said—and indeed, the ancients believed that to speak is to create. The poet shapes worlds from sound; the teacher awakens minds through meaning. Words carry not just knowledge, but power—the power to heal or to harm, to inspire or to destroy. In every age, civilizations have risen and fallen on the strength or the corruption of their words. Thus, Fonda’s reverence for language is not a mere artistic sentiment—it is a recognition of the divine force that speech holds. To honor words is to honor truth; to love courage is to live it through what we speak and what we do.

In our own time, when words are often cheapened and courage grows scarce, Fonda’s declaration rings with quiet urgency. He reminds us to choose our words with reverence—to speak only what uplifts, defends, and reveals. And more importantly, he calls us to live with courage in all its forms: the courage to love without fear, to create without approval, to speak without deceit. Each day, life will demand this courage of us—in choices great and small, in moments seen and unseen. And when fear whispers that it is safer to remain silent, we must remember that silence, too, is a word—a word that can either protect or imprison the soul.

So, my child, let this teaching be your guide: cherish your words, and live your courage. Speak truth even when it trembles on your lips. Write words that kindle light, not shadow. Defend what is just, even when you stand alone. For as Peter Fonda knew, the word “courage” is not only beautiful—it is holy, for it calls forth the noblest part of the human spirit. To love it is to love life itself.

And in the end, may your own words, like his, be born of courage—simple, honest, and enduring. For words fade from parchment and sound, but those spoken with courage live forever in the hearts of those who hear them.