He who loses wealth loses much; he who loses a friend loses more;

“He who loses wealth loses much; he who loses a friend loses more; but he that loses his courage loses all.” So wrote Miguel de Cervantes, the great Spanish author of Don Quixote, whose words have traveled through the centuries like a beacon of steadfastness to the trembling hearts of men. In this single sentence, he captures the hierarchy of life’s treasures—its material riches, its bonds of affection, and finally, its inner strength—and declares that the greatest loss of all is the loss of courage. For without courage, no wealth can be used, no friendship can be defended, and no life can be truly lived.

Cervantes knew these truths not as a philosopher gazing idly from a window, but as a man tested by the storms of life. He was a soldier who fought bravely at the Battle of Lepanto, where he was wounded and lost the use of his left hand. Later, he was captured by pirates and held captive for years. He suffered poverty, imprisonment, and scorn before his genius was recognized. Yet through all these trials, his courage never failed him. He endured every hardship with the quiet dignity of one who believes that the soul, once tempered by adversity, grows stronger than steel. Thus, his words are not mere wisdom—they are the distilled essence of a life lived through both triumph and tragedy.

When Cervantes says, “He who loses wealth loses much,” he speaks to the fragility of material fortune. Money and possessions can be earned, enjoyed, and lost again. They are tools of comfort, not foundations of the spirit. The wise man treats wealth as the traveler treats the inn—useful for rest, but never mistaken for home. Many men have ruined themselves by mourning riches that were never theirs to keep. The loss of gold may wound the pride, but it cannot break the soul unless the soul is built upon it.

The next truth cuts deeper: “He who loses a friend loses more.” Friendship is the bridge between hearts, the mirror in which we see our own goodness reflected. To lose a friend is to lose a piece of oneself—to feel a silence where once there was laughter, to walk a path that once was shared. Yet even this loss, profound as it is, can be borne by those who possess courage. For friendship, though precious, is one star among many; and though stars may fall, the dawn still rises. Courage gives us the strength to cherish what was beautiful and to move forward without bitterness, honoring those we have loved by living nobly still.

But the final truth—the one that crowns the others—is the most fearsome and the most sacred: “He that loses his courage loses all.” For courage is the root of every virtue, the beating heart of all that makes life worth living. Without courage, wisdom cannot act, love cannot endure, and faith cannot stand. Courage is not the absence of fear, but the mastery of it; it is the light that burns in the soul even when all other fires have gone out. The man who keeps his courage keeps his life, though all else be stripped away. The man who loses it becomes a shadow, living but not alive.

History is rich with those who proved the power of courage. Think of Nelson Mandela, who spent twenty-seven years in prison, yet emerged not broken but magnified—his spirit unbent, his resolve turned into freedom for millions. He lost his wealth, his youth, his freedom—but not his courage. And in that courage, he found victory greater than any king’s. So too did Joan of Arc, the peasant girl who faced death at the stake with her faith unshaken. The flames took her body, but her courage became immortal. These are the souls Cervantes spoke of—the ones who lost everything but still won eternity, because they never surrendered their inner flame.

Let this, then, be the wisdom for all who seek strength in the storms of life: guard your courage above all else. You may lose fortune—let it go. You may lose friends—grieve them but continue onward. But do not lose the will to rise, to fight, to hope, to begin again. For courage is the breath of the soul, the anchor of the spirit, and the voice that whispers in the darkness: “Stand.” Each time you fall and rise again, you reclaim the kingdom of yourself. And in that kingdom, you will find what Cervantes knew—the only treasure that cannot be stolen, the only power that cannot die: the eternal courage to live.