There was, however, in the audience a disagreeable fellow who never missed a chance to contradict the master. He would observe the rabbi’s weaknesses and make fun of his defects to the dismay of the disciples, who began to look on him as the devil incarnate.

Well, one day the “devil” took ill and died. Everyone heaved a sigh of relief. Outwardly they looked appropriately solemn but in their hearts they were glad for no longer would the master’s inspiring talks be interrupted or his behavior criticized by this disrespectful heretic.

So the people were surprised to see the master plunged in genuine grief at the funeral. When asked by a disciple later if he was mourning over the eternal fate of the dead man, he said, “No, no. Why should I mourn over our friend who is now in heaven? It was for myself I was grieving. That man was the only friend I had. Here I am surrounded by people who revere me. He was the only one who challenged me. I fear that with him gone, I shall stop growing.” And as he said these words, the master burst into tears.

It is just astonishing to see the use they make of their imagination…

The man begged and pleaded and used a thousand arguments to be allowed to live a little longer, but the angel was obdurate. “Give me three days of life and I shall give you half my fortune,” the man pleaded. The angel wouldn’t hear of it and began to tug at him.

“Give me just one day, I beg of you, and you can have everything I accumlated through so much sweat and toil.”

The angel was adamant still.

He was able to wring just one little concession from the angel, a few moments in which to write down this note:
“Oh you, whoever you are that happen to find this note, if you have enough to live on, don’t waste your life accumulating fortunes. Live!

My five hundred thousand dinars could not buy me a single hour of life!”

When millionaires die and people ask, “How much did they leave?” the answer is, of course, “Everything.”
And sometimes, “They didn’t leave it. They were taken away from it.”

Or what an economics teacher would say: “Time is the only resource that can’t be recovered”.

“What is it you want?” asked the King.

“A place to sleep in this caravanserai.”

“This is no inn. This is my palace.”

“May I ask who owned this place before you?”

“My father. He is dead.”

“And who owned it before him?”

“My grandfather. He is dead too.”

“And this place where people lodge for a brief while and move on—did I hear you say it was not an caravanserai?”

Everyone’s in the departure lounge!

The young man was shocked. “So long?” he asked incredulously.
Said the master, “No that was a mistake. It will take you twenty years.”
The young man asked, “Why did you double the figure?”
Said the master, “Come to think about it, in your case it will probably be thirty.”

Some people will never learn anything because they grasp everything too soon. Wisdom, after all, is not a station you arrive at but a manner of traveling. If you travel too fast, you will miss the scenery.
To know exactly where you’re headed may be the best way to go astray. Not all those who loiter are lost.

A good way to cover less distance in more time is to go faster.

“What’s this man’s problem?” he asked the doctor.

“Lulu. She was the woman who jilted him,” was the doctor’s reply.

As they proceeded on the tour they came to a padded cell whose occupant was banging his head repeatedly against the wall and moaning, “Lulu, Lulu…”

“Is Lulu this man’s problem too?” asked the visitor.

“Yes,” said the doctor. “He’s the one Lulu finally married.”

There are only two afflictions in life-not getting what you are attached to and getting what you are attached to.