until he said:

His stature in people’s hearts became immense. When he walked through Hamadhān no one who saw him remained seated; all would rise and pray for him—even the children and the Jews. At times he would travel to the town of Mushkān to lead the Friday prayer there, and its inhabitants would come out to greet him beyond the outskirts—the Muslims in one group, the Jews in another—invoking blessings upon him until he entered the town.

Large sums from worldly sources were opened up to him, yet he hoarded nothing; instead, he spent it on his students. He maintained stipends for various people, and his debts in Hamadhān never fell below one thousand gold dinars—or more—despite the abundance that came his way.

He would seek assistance for his companions from the public, honor his associates and all who were connected with him, and would not attend an invitation unless a number of his students were likewise invited. He never ate from the wealth of tyrants, nor did he ever accept from them a school or a lodge. He taught only in his own house, while we lived in his mosque.

Half of each day he devoted to teaching hadith, and the other half to the Qur’an and the religious sciences. He avoided the rulers and, for Allah’s sake, feared no reproach from any critic. He allowed no one in his quarter (1) to commit a reprehensible act or to hold a samāʿ (musical audition). He treated every person according to his proper rank, so that hearts everywhere rallied to love him and to speak well of him, even in far-off regions—even in Khwārazm, whose people were Muʿtazilite, despite his own strict Hanbalism.

His prayer was beautiful; I have not seen anyone among our teachers pray better than he did. He was extremely rigorous about purity, never letting anyone touch his sandals. His garments were short, his sleeves were short, and his turban measured about seven cubits.