Carr dropped this line almost casually, sandwiched between observations about curiosity and ambition, but it contained one of the deepest truths about creative work. The conventional view is that courage means the absence of fear, or that fear must be conquered before one can act. Carr was arguing the opposite: the most productive state is holding both fear and courage simultaneously. This duality defined Carr's own life. He was a recovering crack addict and alcoholic who became one of the most respected journalists in America. He was someone who, by his own admission, had been 'on welfare, dependent on the state for both food and medical treatments,' a 'single parent at a time when nobody would trust me with a ficus plant.' Fear was not something he had overcome — it was something he carried alongside his courage. The phrase also captured the daily experience of journalism. Every phone call to a source, every knock on a door, every decision to publish involves both fear (what if I'm wrong? what if they're angry? what if I get sued?) and courage (the story needs to be told). Carr was telling graduates that if they felt both at once, they weren't broken — they were ready.