Mulla Nasrudin

The smell of a thought

   Nasrudin was penniless, and sat huddled in a blanket while the wind
howled outside. ‘At least,’ he thought, ‘the people next door will not 
smell cooking from my kitchen — so they can’t send round to cadge
some food.’
   At that the thought of hot, aromatic soup came into his mind, and he
savored it mentally for several minutes.
   There came a knocking on the door. ‘Mother sent me,’ said the little
daughter of his neighbor, ‘to ask whether you had any soup to spare, 
hot, seasoned soup.’
   ‘Heaven help us,’ said Nasrudin, ‘the neighbors even smell my thoughts.’