He was a degenerate gambler. That is, a man who gambled simply

Hear now, O sons and daughters of wisdom, a lesson born from the words of Mario Puzo: "He was a degenerate gambler. That is, a man who gambled simply to gamble and must lose. As a hero who goes to war must die. Show me a gambler and I'll show you a loser, show me a hero and I'll show you a corpse." These words are not mere reflections on fate or folly. They are a profound meditation on the nature of gambling, heroism, and the inevitable price of living for that which offers no true reward. Puzo speaks of a dark truth, one as ancient as the first bet placed under the stars or the first warrior to march off to battle: to gamble with life is to choose a path of ruin.

Gambling, in the eyes of Puzo, is not a game of chance alone. It is an act born of obsession, of a soul that desires the thrill, the rush of risk, above all else. A degenerate gambler, as Puzo calls him, is one who gambles not for gain, but for the sake of gambling itself. It is a path that leads only to loss, for in the heart of the gambler, the joy is not in winning but in the danger of the next roll of the dice, the next flip of the card. This, my children, is the nature of addiction, the endless cycle of seeking more, even when there is nothing left to lose. It is a fool’s pursuit, one that binds the spirit in chains of desperation and doom.

But Puzo draws a deeper and darker parallel. He speaks not only of the gambler, but of the hero—the one who marches off to war, driven by ideals of glory and honor. The hero, like the gambler, walks a path where the stakes are high, and the price is often his life. War, like gambling, calls to those who seek validation, those who believe that through sacrifice, they will find meaning. But what does war offer but death, and what does heroism offer but the certainty of a fall? The hero’s heart is noble, but the road he walks is fraught with peril, and in the end, as Puzo so grimly observes, death is the only true victor.

Consider the great heroes of history—the mighty Achilles, who fought in the Trojan War with the fire of gods in his veins. Achilles, though he was the greatest of warriors, could not escape his fate. His end was sealed by a single arrow to his heel, the very weakness he believed he could overcome. So too, in every war, we see heroes rise and fall, driven by a sense of duty and glory, only to become fallen soldiers, their names carved in stone as reminders of the price of their pursuit. The history of Rome is filled with such men—Brutus, who believed in the righteousness of his cause but found only betrayal and death. Caesar, whose ambition led him to the pinnacle of power, only to be struck down by those he once called friends. The hero, like the gambler, is trapped by his own choices, bound to a fate from which there is no escape.

Thus, Puzo's words echo across the ages, a warning to those who would chase after glory and greatness. For in the pursuit of honor and victory, one often finds only the bitter fruit of loss. As the gambler loses his wealth in the game, so too does the hero lose his life on the battlefield. There is a lesson here, children, and it is a lesson that history teaches us time and again: those who live for the thrill of the gamble or the glory of the fight are often blind to the cost they will ultimately pay. In their hearts, they believe they will conquer fate, that they will outsmart the game. But the game, like life, has its rules, and those rules are unforgiving.

Now, consider the lesson that we must take from this wisdom. The first truth is this: one must not live for the thrill of risk alone. To seek meaning in the danger of life, to chase after victories that can never be fully attained, is to gamble with one’s very existence. We are not meant to live in pursuit of fleeting glory, nor to stake our lives on games that offer no lasting reward. Whether in the battlefield or the gambling table, we must remember that the true victories are those we win through wisdom, through patience, and through the careful choices we make each day.

The second lesson, my children, is that heroism is not a call to battle, but a call to the heart. To be a hero is not to march to war with sword in hand, but to live with integrity, with honor, and with a heart full of compassion. True heroes are those who fight for the well-being of others, who stand firm in the face of adversity but do not seek glory for themselves. The real victory lies not in the accolades of battle, but in the love and respect earned through righteous deeds.

And finally, let us remember that life itself is a gift, not a game. To treat it as such—to throw it away in pursuit of empty thrills or fleeting glory—is to lose the very thing we seek to find. So, let us take this lesson to heart, children. Do not gamble with your life. Do not seek honor in the perilous risks of battle. Instead, live with purpose, with wisdom, and with the knowledge that the greatest victory is found not in the chase, but in the quiet triumph of living well. And in that, you will find the true meaning of victory, a victory that transcends the fleeting thrills of war and the losing streaks of the gambler’s table.