Bansir shook his head. "But I tried once. I gave my savings to a jewel merchant to buy rare stones from Phoenicia. The ship sank. I lost everything."
One evening, a former childhood friend, Bansir the chariot builder, came to Arkad’s lavish home. Bansir’s clothes were threadbare, his hands calloused. "Arkad," Bansir said, "you and I played together as boys. We both worked hard. Yet you bathe in gold, while I struggle to buy a single donkey. Why?" najbogatiot covek vo vavilon
Arkad said. "For years, I paid everyone else: the baker, the clothier, the sandal-maker. But I never paid myself. Algamish told me to put aside no less than one-tenth of every coin I earned. Not to spend. To keep." Bansir shook his head
Arkad smiled gently. "You ask why luck has kissed my brow, Bansir? But luck waits for no one. It is habit that builds wealth." The ship sank