Someone once told me I'm a sore winner, and they're right. I

In the words of Eli Broad, master builder of businesses and patron of the arts, we hear the confession of a restless spirit: “Someone once told me I'm a sore winner, and they're right. I rarely take more than a moment to enjoy a success before I'm moving on and looking for the next challenge.” These words are not of arrogance, but of the hunger that drives creation. Broad reveals that for some souls, victory is not a place of rest but a signal to continue, a flame that ignites the desire for yet greater heights.

At the heart of this saying is the paradox of the sore winner. Unlike the sore loser, who clings to defeat in bitterness, the sore winner clings to victory only for an instant—never content, never satisfied, always looking toward the next conquest. To most, success is the summit. To Broad, success is but a foothold for the next climb. This is not mere impatience; it is the recognition that to dwell too long in triumph is to risk stagnation, and that the spirit, like the body, grows only when it is tested anew.

The ancients knew of this restless energy. Alexander the Great, after conquering the Persian Empire, wept because there were no more worlds to subdue. His victories, vast as they were, could not still the fire within him. For such men, the joy of triumph is fleeting; their true pleasure lies in the pursuit itself. Broad speaks with the same voice: the crown of success is heavy and short-lived, but the thrill of challenge is inexhaustible.

We see this also in the lives of great inventors and visionaries. Thomas Edison, after bringing forth the electric light, did not rest in his achievement. He turned at once to the phonograph, the motion picture, and countless other endeavors. For Edison, as for Broad, the question was never “What have I done?” but always “What can I do next?” This ceaseless forward motion is the essence of innovation, and the mark of those whose lives reshape the world.

Yet Broad’s words also carry a warning. To be forever moving on is to risk never savoring the sweetness of what has been achieved. The feast of triumph, if never tasted, may leave the soul hollow, ever striving but never fulfilled. Thus, the wise must find balance: to pause long enough to honor the work, yet not so long as to become captive to yesterday’s glory. The lesson is not to scorn success, but to hold it lightly, remembering that life’s meaning lies not in a single victory, but in the journey of continual growth.

The lesson for us, then, is to cultivate the spirit of challenge-seeking. When success comes, rejoice, but do not let it bind you. Let each triumph be a stepping stone to greater purpose. In work, in study, in art, or in love, always ask: what next mountain awaits me? For life itself is movement, and the heart that ceases to strive begins to wither.

Practically, this means setting new goals even as old ones are achieved. Write down not only the dream you have conquered, but the dream that now arises beyond it. Share your victories with gratitude, but then lift your eyes to the horizon. This forward-looking spirit transforms fleeting triumph into lasting strength.

So let us remember Eli Broad’s wisdom: the sore winner is not content to dwell in past glories, but hungers for the next challenge. Such hunger may seem restless, but it is the very fire that builds cities, forges empires, and advances civilizations. Carry this flame within you, and you too will rise beyond the moment, always pressing forward into the greater work yet to be done.