(9) Surrounded by the troop of the Passions, a man should become a thousand times prouder, and be as unconquerable to their hordes as a lion to flocks of deer. Even in great stress the eye is unconscious of the sense of taste; and so, into whatever straits he may come, he will not fall into the power of the Passions. He will utterly give himself over to whatever task arrives, greedy for the work, insatiate of spirit, like one who lusts for the delight issuing from his sport. Every work is done for the sake of happiness, whether the happiness come or no; but how can he whose happiness is work itself be happy in doing no work? Desires, like honey on the edge of a razor's blade, bring no contentment in life; but what satiety can there be from the divine draughts of righteous deeds, that are blessed and sweet in their issue? Then when one work is brought to an end, he will plunge into another, as the elephant, vexed by the heat of midday, plunges straightway into the lake that he finds.

(439) Would you not say that thirst is one of these essentially relative terms, having clearly a relation— Yes, thirst is relative to drink. And a certain kind of thirst is relative to a certain kind of drink; but thirst taken alone is neither of much nor little, nor of good nor bad, nor of any particular kind of drink, but of drink only? Certainly. Then the soul of the thirsty one, in so far as he is thirsty, desires only drink; for this he yearns and tries to obtain it? That is plain. And if you suppose something which pulls a thirsty soul away from drink, that must be different from the thirsty principle which draws him like a beast to drink; for, as we were saying, the same thing cannot at the same time with the same part of itself act in contrary ways about the same. Impossible. No more than you can say that the hands of the archer push and pull the bow at the same time, but what you say is that one hand pushes and the other pulls. Exactly so, he replied. And might a man be thirsty, and yet unwilling to drink? Yes, he said, it constantly happens. And in such a case what is one to say? Would you not say that there was something in the soul bidding a man to drink, and something else forbidding him, which is other and stronger than the principle which bids him? I should say so.

(1) WHEN thus vigour has been nurtured, it is well to fix the thought in concentred effort; the man of wandering mind lies between the fangs of the Passions. It cannot wander if body and thought be in solitude; so it is well to forsake the world and put away vain imaginations. Because of love, or hunger for gain, and the like, men will not forsake the world; then in order to cast it aside the wise will lay to heart these thoughts. Passion is overcome only by him who has won through stillness of spirit the perfect vision. Knowing this, I must first seek for stillness; it comes through the contentment that is regardless of the world. What creature of a day should cling to other frail beings, when he can never again through thousands of births behold his beloved? Yet when he sees him not, he is ill at ease; he rests not in concentred thought; and even when he beholds him he is not satisfied, but is distressed by the same longing as before. He sees not things in their reality; he loses his horror of the world; he is consumed by his grief in yearning for union with the beloved. In thoughts thereupon his brief life vainly passes away hour by hour; and the eternal Law is broken for the sake of a short-lived friend!

(32) Every cup should be sweet to you which extinguishes thirst.

Fly from intoxication as you would from insanity.

No good originates from the body.

(5) 'When a man is thus said to be thirsty, fire carries away what has been drunk by him. Therefore as they speak of a cow-leader (go-nâya), of a horse-leader (asva-nâya), of a man-leader (purusha-nâya), so they call fire udanyâ, thirst, i. e. water-leader. Thus (by water digested &c.), my son, know this offshoot (the body) to be brought forth: this (body) could not be without a root (cause).

(12) But despite its fall, the whole earth cannot satisfy the lust of the flesh; who can do its will? To him who longs for the impossible come guilt and bafflement of desire; but he who is utterly without desire has a happiness that ages not. Then give no room for the lust of the flesh to swell; blessed indeed is the thing that is not imagined for the sake of its pleasant- ness. The body is a motionless thing stirred by something without, and ending in ashes, a loathsome frame of foulness; why do I cling to it? What have I to do with this machine, alive or dead? What distinguishes it from such things as clods of earth? Alas, O thought of self, thou wilt not die! Through complicity with the flesh I win sorrow, all to no purpose; it is no better than a thing of wood, and what should avail its hatred or its kindness? It feels no love when I guard it, no hate when vultures devour it; then why do I love it? I am angered when it is treated with scorn, delighted when it is honoured; but if it has no knowledge, to what end is my toil? My friends, forsooth, are they who wish well to this body; but all men wish well to their own flesh, and why are not they also my friends? So I have surrendered my body indifferently for the weal of the world; it is but as an instrument of work that I still bear it, with all its guilt. Enough then of worldly ways! I follow in the path of the Wise, remembering the Discourse upon Heedfulness and putting away sloth. To overcome the power of darkness I concentre my thought, drawing the spirit away from vain paths and fixing it straightly upon its stay.

A thirsty man discovered a tank of water, but could not drink of it because it was surrounded by a high wall. He took some of the bricks off the top of the wall and cast them over it into the water. The water cried out, "What advantage do you gain by doing this?" He made answer, "The first advantage is this, that I hear your voice; and the second, that the more bricks I pull off the wall, the nearer I approach to you." The moral is, that so long as the wall of the body intervenes, we cannot reach the water of life. The abasement of the body brings men nearer to union with the Deity. Destroy, therefore, the fleshly lusts which war against the soul. Then follows another parable to illustrate the folly of procrastination in this important matter.

(9) Mark how fortune brings endless misfortune by the miseries of winning it, guarding it, and losing it; men's thoughts cling altogether to their riches, so that they have not a moment to free themselves from the sorrows of life. Thus they who are possessed by desire suffer much and enjoy little, as the ox that drags a cart gets but a morsel of grass. For the sake of this morsel of enjoyment, which falls easily to the beast's lot, man, blinded by his destiny, wastes this brief fortune, that is so hard to win. For all time lasts the struggle for the welfare of the mean body that is doomed to depart and fall into hell, and even a millionth part of this labour would win the rank of the Enlightened. Greater is the pain of them that are possessed by desire than the pain of the way of holiness, and no Enlightenment comes to them. Neither sword, nor poison, nor fire, nor fall into abysses, nor foemen may be compared to the desires, if we bear in mind the agonies of hell and the like. Then shrink from the desires, and learn delight in solitude, in the peaceful woodlands void of strife and toil. Happy are they who are fanned by the sweet silent breezes of the forest, as they walk upon the pleasant rock-floors broad as in a palace and cooled by the moonbeams' sandal ointment, and take thought for the weal of their fellow-creatures! Dwelling anywhere for what time they will, in deserted sanctuary or cave or beneath the trees, saved from the weariness of winning and guarding possessions, they wander fancy-free at pleasure. Indra himself can hardly win the bliss of contentment that is enjoyed by him who wanders homeless at his own free will and unattached to aught.

(11) For they work at their business, but we go about in hunger (and) in thirst, looking toward our dwelling-place, the place which our conduct and our conscience look toward, not clinging to the things which have come into being, but withdrawing from them. Our hearts are set on the things that exist, though we are ill (and) feeble (and) in pain. But there is a great strength hidden within us.

(4) Ah, when I vowed to deliver all beings within the bounds of space in its ten points from the Passions, I myself had not won deliverance from the Passions. Knowing not my now measure, I spoke like a madman. Then I will never turn back from smiting the Passions. I will grapple with them, will wrathfully make war on them all except the passion that makes for the destruction of the Passions. Though my bowels ooze out and my head fall off, I will nowise abase myself before my foes the Passions. An enemy, though driven away, may establish himself in another spot, whence he may return with gathered powers; but such is not the way of the enemy Passion. Where can this dweller in my spirit go when I cast him out; where can he stand, to labour for my destruction? It is only that I — fool that I am — make no effort; the miserable Passions are to be overcome by the vision of wisdom. The Passions lie not in the objects of sense, nor in the sense-organs, nor between them, nor elsewhere; where do they lie? And yet they disturb the whole world! They are but a phantom. Then cast away thy heart's terror, and labour for wisdom; why shouldst thou vainly torture thyself in hell? Thus resolved, I will strive to fulfil the rule as it has been taught; how should he who needs medicine find healing, if he depart from the physician's command?

(16) And they- (men of demonical nature) held by boundless desires unending till death (or dissolution of the world), thinking of sensual enjoyments as the goal of life, decided that there is nothing more to realise, bound by the cords of innumerable desires, prompted by passion and anger, – seek for wealth by unrighteous means to satisfy their thirst for enjoyment.

(39) We must then exercise ourselves in taking care about those things which fall under the power of the passions, fleeing like those who are truly philosophers such articles of food as excite lust, and dissolute licentiousness in chambering and luxury; and the sensations that tend to luxury, which are a solid reward to others, must no longer be so to us. For God's greatest gift is self-restraint.

(7) "Wretch, what good dost thou know, or what honourable aim hast thou? which does not even wait for the appetite for sweet things, eating before being hungry, drinking before being thirsty; and that thou mayest eat pleasantly, seeking out fine cooks; and that thou mayest drink pleasantly, procuring costly wines; and in summer runnest about seeking snow; and that thou mayest sleep pleasantly, not only providest soft beds, but also supports to the couches." Whence, as Aristo said, "against the whole tetrachord of pleasure, pain, fear, and lust, there is need of much exercise and struggle."

(5) In heedlessness, wrath, or lust for women and other things beyond their reach, men bring themselves into distress from thorns, lack of food, and the like. Some destroy themselves by hanging, springing down from a height, taking poison or unwholesome measure of food, or doing unrighteousness. Since under the sway of the passions they harm thus their own persons, which they love, how can they spare the bodies of others? Maddened by passions, striving for their own destruction, there can be only pity for them; how should we be angered? If it is the nature of fools to hurt their fellows, it is as wrong for me to feel anger against them as it is to be wroth with the fire which naturally burns me; and if again it is a passing frailty, and creatures are upright of nature, then it is as wrong to be angered against them as against the air when smoke fills it.

(1) When a man (who is the sacrificer) hungers, thirsts, and abstains from pleasures, that is the Dîkshâ (initiatory rite).

(3) 'Learn from me, my son, what are hunger and thirst. When a man is thus said to be hungry, water is carrying away (digests) what has been eaten by him. Therefore as they speak of a cow-leader (go-nâya), a horse-leader (asva-nâya), a man-leader (purusha-nâya), so they call water (which digests food and causes hunger) food-leader (asa-nâya). Thus (by food digested &c.), my son, know this offshoot (the body) to be brought forth, for this (body) could not be without a root (cause).

(57) The human ideal of continence, I mean that which is set forth by Greek philosophers, teaches that one should fight desire and not be subservient to it so as to bring it to practical effect. But our ideal is not to experience desire at all. Our aim is not that while a man feels desire he should get the better of it, but that he should be continent even respecting desire itself. This chastity cannot be attained in any other way except by God's grace. That was why he said "Ask and it shall be given you." This grace was received even by Moses, though clothed in his needy body, so that for forty days he felt neither thirst nor hunger. Just as it is better to be in good health than for a sick man to talk about health, so to be light is better than to discuss light, and true chastity is better than that taught by the philosophers. Where there is light there is no darkness. But where there is inward desire, even if it goes no further than desire and is quiescent so far as bodily action is concerned, union takes place in thought with the object of desire, although that object is not present.

(3) Such an one is no longer continent, but has reached a state of passionlessness, waiting to put on the divine image. "If thou doest alms," it is said, "let no one know it; and if thou fastest, anoint thyself, that God alone may know," and not a single human being. Not even he himself who shows mercy ought to know that he does show mercy; for in this way he will be sometimes merciful, sometimes not. And when he shall do good by habit, he will imitate the nature of good, and his disposition will be his nature and his practice. There is no necessity for removing those who are raised on high, but there is necessity for those who are walking to reach the requisite goal, by passing over the whole of the narrow way. For this is to be drawn by the Father, to become worthy to receive the power of grace from God, so as to run without hindrance.

(19) Then by the practice of temperance men seek health: and by cramming themselves, and wallowing in potations at feasts, they attract diseases.

(1) Now he who is patient will seek for strength, for in strength lies Enlightenment. Without strength there is no righteous work, as without the wind there is no motion. And what is strength? Vigour hi well-doing. What is its contrary called? Faintness, clinging to base things, despair, self-contempt. From inaction, delight in pleasure, slumber, and eagerness for repose springs a spirit that feels no horror at the miseries of life, and from this arises faintness. Pursued by the Passions, those fishers, thou hast come into the net of Birth, and knowest thou not that this selfsame day thou hast fallen into the jaws of Death? Seest thou not thy comrades smitten down one after the other? and withal thou fallest into slumber like a bullock in the butcher's hands. Watched by the Death-god, thy ways hemmed in on every side, how canst thou find delight in food, how canst thou sleep and love? Wait a little while, until Death shall have gathered his instruments, and he will come swiftly upon thee; then it will be an ill time for thee to cast off thy faintness, and what wilt thou do? " This work untouched, this begun, this standing half-done — and lo! Death has suddenly fallen upon me! Alas, I am undone! " Such will be thy thoughts, whilst thou lookest upon thy despairing kinsmen with their eyes swollen and red with tears in the passion of their grief, and upon the faces of the Death-god's messengers, whilst thou liest racked by the memory of thy sins, hearing the noises of hell, altogether overwhelmed— and oh, what wilt thou do?