After we purchased the land for our monastery in 1983 we were broke. We were in debt. There were no buildings on the land, not even a shed. Those first few weeks we slept not on beds but on old doors we had bought cheaply from the salvage yard; we raised them on bricks at each corner to lift them off the ground. (There were no mattresses, of course — we were forest monks.)
The abbot had the best…
The pupils of the Tendai school used to study meditation before Zen entered Japan. Four of them who were intimate friends promised one another to observe seven days of silence.
On the first day all were silent. Their meditation had begun auspiciously, but when night came and the oil lamps were growing dim one of the pupils could not help exclaiming to a servant: “Fix those lamps.”
A drunk crossed the street and accosted a pedestrian, asking him, “I shay, which ish the other shide of the shtreet?”
The pedestrian, somewhat nonplussed, replied, “That side, of course!”
The drunk said, “Shtrange. When I wash on that shide, they shaid it wash thish shide.”
Source | Desmond Tutu, God is Not a Christian: And Other Provocation
(Harper One, 2011) page 5.