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?"
Bansir frowned. "I earn so little. One-tenth is a few coppers." najbogatiot covek vo vavilon
In the ancient, sun-baked city of Babylon, a man named Arkad was known by a single, shimmering title: —the richest man in all of Babylon. His gold funded the great irrigation canals; his silver adorned the Hanging Gardens. One evening, a former childhood friend, Bansir the
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." We both worked hard
Wealth is not what you earn. It is what you keep, what you grow, and what you protect.
Arkad smiled gently. "You ask why luck has kissed my brow, Bansir? But luck waits for no one. It is habit that builds wealth."
Arkad nodded. "Anyone can do this. Save a tenth. Let it grow. Avoid loss. Do this for ten years, and you will not be poor. Do it for thirty, and you will dine with kings."