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The Buddha's Way of Virtue, by W.D.C Wagiswara and K.J. Saunders, [1920], at

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§ XI


146. Where is the joy, what the pleasure, whilst all is in flames? Benighted, would ye not seek a torch?

147. Look at this painted image, wounded and swollen, sickly and full of lust, in which there is no permanence;

148. This wasted form is a nest of disease and very frail: it is full of putrid matter and perishes. Death is the end of life.

149. What delight is there for him who sees these grey bones scattered like gourds in autumn?

150. Here is a citadel of bones plastered with flesh and blood, and manned by old age and death, self-will and enmity.

151. As even the king's bright chariot grows old, so the body of man also comes to old age. But the law of the holy never ages: the holy teach it to the holy.

152. The simpleton ages like the ox: his weight increases, but not his wisdom.

153. Many births have I traversed seeking

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the builder; in vain! Weary is the round of births.

154. Now art thou seen, O Builder. Nevermore shalt thou build the house! All thy beams are broken; cast down is thy cornerstone. My mind is set upon Nirvāna; it has attained the extinction of desire.

155. They who have not lived purely nor stored up riches in their youth, these ruefully ponder, as old herons by a lake without fish.

156. They who have not lived purely nor stored up riches in their youth, are as arrows that are shot in vain: they mourn for the past.

Next: § XII: Self