Najbogatiot Covek Vo Vavilon Today

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."

Bansir sat in silence. Then he whispered, "So the richest man in Babylon is not lucky. He is disciplined." najbogatiot covek vo vavilon

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

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." Let it grow

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.

Bansir frowned. "I earn so little. One-tenth is a few coppers."

Yet, long ago, Arkad was a poor scribe who carved clay tablets for other men’s wages.