After rice appeared the much-dreaded pie, glaring yellowly, with its coarse pretentious outside—prototype of many a living humbug—veiling one knows not what of false and vile.
When I want to have fun I play blitz. When I want to go deeper and work on improving my game, I play classical and I try to do it in tournament settings.
Hears the hoarse bittern, where Gomorrah stood;
In the United States and Israel, however, insiders view one who leaves the yeshiva or kollel for outside employment and thus becomes a balabos, a lay householder, as a flop. He has, after all, abandoned eternity, a life of the spirit, for everyday work. Every yeshiva student I spoke to expressed this “fear” of ending up a balabos.
