There was once a bochur who was depressed (as bochurim sometimes are...). I tried to speak to him, but didn't get anywhere. I told the bochur to write to the Rebbe, which he did. He opened an igros, and there was a letter from the Rebbe telling him to learn chovos halevovos shaar habitochoin. I thought it was a very fitting answer, but the bochur wasn't ready to do it. The idea of learning chovos halevovos was so foreign and strange to him, that he just couldn't see himself carrying it out. I tried to insist that if he wrote to the Rebbe he has to listen to the answer. Finally I suggested to him to discuss it with Rabbi Aronow, which he agreed to. Soon afterwards, he came back to me very upset. "Why did you send me to him?" he asked, "he doesn't believe that I got the answer, he's telling me that there's no way the Rebbe would tell me such a thing. How could he say that? I know what answer I got?" I was a bit at a loss myself. After all, I had also seen the answer, and I didn't understand why Rabbi Aronow was arguing with him about a metzius. "Tell me exactly what he said to you", I demanded. "Like I told you, he said it's impossible that I got such an answer, because there's no way that the Rebbe would tell me to learn מורה נבוכים". "One second, but he's right", I exclaimed, "the Rebbe didn't tell you to learn מורה נבוכים, he told you to learn chovos halevovos!" It turned out that when the bochur went to speak to Rabbi Aronow, he confused the 2 seforim, and Rabbi Aronow-correctly- asserted that his version of the answer could not possibly be correct!

(The end was that events of years later may have shed much light on why it was so important for him to learn chovos halevovos).