And I, uh, I wonder how anybody can think his personality

The words of Rube Goldberg rise with humility and timeless truth: “And I, uh, I wonder how anybody can think his personality changes with his success. I've had quite a bit of success but I feel that I'm just the same person as I always was.” In this utterance lies a profound teaching: that success may decorate a man with crowns and honors, but it does not transform the essence of his being. The world may cheer, the riches may gather, the applause may thunder, yet the true self remains, as it was in the beginning, if the soul is steady and grounded.

The ancients often warned of the illusions of success. They declared that fortune is fickle, that the gifts of wealth, power, or recognition can deceive both the beholder and the one who receives them. Many believed that with success, the soul would change, grow proud, lose its former humility. Yet Goldberg’s words stand in gentle defiance of this belief. He reminds us that success, though powerful, is but an external garment. The fabric of the inner person—woven of character, upbringing, and truth—remains unchanged if the spirit holds firm.

Consider the story of Marcus Aurelius, emperor of Rome, who ruled one of the greatest empires in history. Surrounded by riches, armies, and the adoration of millions, he could have allowed himself to believe he was something greater than man. Yet in his Meditations, written in quiet moments of reflection, he confessed his humanness, his mortality, and his determination to remain simple and just. “Do not be made into a Caesar,” he warned himself, “for it is possible to live as you did before the crown.” Even at the height of glory, his personality remained the same as when he was merely a student of philosophy.

So too, Rube Goldberg, though celebrated for his whimsical machines and his mark upon culture, declared that he had not changed. The applause did not inflate him; the recognition did not consume him. He stood as a reminder that true greatness lies not in becoming someone new with success, but in remaining faithful to who one already is. His machines, filled with humor and humanity, mirrored this truth: complex in design, yet simple in spirit, they reminded the world that joy and humility matter more than triumph.

But we must acknowledge: not all withstand the test. Many through history have been transformed by success, and not for the better. Kings have grown cruel, artists arrogant, leaders blind. For those unprepared, success is a snare, a shadow that devours their true self. Goldberg’s words shine all the brighter against this backdrop, teaching us that endurance of character is a higher achievement than riches or fame.

The lesson, O seeker, is clear: guard your heart. When success comes—and in some measure it always does—do not let it make you a stranger to yourself. Remember the days of small beginnings, the humble roots from which you rose. Let gratitude be your shield and humility your crown. The world may see your triumph, but let you yourself remember your humanity. In doing so, you will remain whole.

Practical wisdom follows: in your own life, should recognition come, do not bask too long in its light. Share your victories with others, give thanks to those who helped you rise, and return quickly to the work, the craft, the purpose that guided you in the first place. Success may be sweet, but it is fleeting; character endures. And the truest form of success is not in changing who you are, but in proving that you can remain yourself when the world seeks to alter you.

Thus, let Goldberg’s words be passed down: success does not change the soul—it only reveals it. Be steady, be humble, and remember always who you are. For crowns may fall, applause may fade, but the essence of your spirit—if you guard it—remains eternal.