‘When I die’, said Nasrudin, ‘have me buried in an old grave.’

‘Why?’ asked his relatives.

‘Because when Munkir and Nakir, recording angels of good and bad actions come, I will be able to wave them on, saying that this grave has been counted and entered for punishment already.’

‘What are you doing in that tree, Mulla?’

‘Looking for eggs.’

‘But those are last year’s nests!’

‘Well, if you were a bird, and wanted a safe place to lay, would you build a new nest, with everyone watching?’

‘There are somethings’, said Nasrudin, ‘that you positively know, inwardly, must be untrue.’

‘Can I have an example?’ asked someone who was always looking for evidence of the supernormal.

‘Certainly. For instance, the other day when I was walking along, I overheard a rumour that I was dead.’

Trotting his donkey along a road one day, Nasrudin saw some beautiful flowers by the wayside. He dismounted to pick them, and when he returned with his posy found that someone had stolen his cloak from the back of the donkey.

‘Very well,’ said Nasrudin, ‘I shall have you saddle instead. – Fair is fair.’

He got on the donkey and placed the saddle on his own back.

Nasrudin bought a handful of dates, and sat down to eat them. His wife noticed that he put each stone carefully in his pocket.

‘Why don’t you throw away the stones, like everyone else does?’

‘Because when I bought the dates I asked the greengrocer if the price quoted for “dates” included “stones” as well. He said: “Yes, all included.’’ So the stones are mine as well as the fruit. I can keep them, or throw them away.’