Hope is like a flowing river of which the ceaseless desires constitute the waters, it rages with the waves of keen longings, and the attachments for various objects are its animals of prey; scheming thoughts of greed are the aquatic birds that abound on it, and it destroys in its course the big trees of patience and fortitude; it is rendered impassible by the whirlpools of ignorance, and of profound depth of bed as it is, its banks of anxious deliberation are precipitous indeed. Such a river the great Yogis of pure mind pass across to enjoy supreme felicity.
I do not find the virtuous distinction produced (by ceremonial observances) through life after life to be conducive to well being, for the sum of such virtuous merits when weighed in mind inspires fear in me, multiply so greatly in the case of people attached to them, only to bring them misery and peril!
The objects of enjoyment, even after staying with us for a long time, are sure to leave us sometime; then what difference does their privation in this way make to men, that they do not of their own accord discard them? If the enjoyments leave us on their own initiative, i.e. if they tear themselves from us, they produce great affliction of the mind; but if men voluntarily renounce them, they conduce to the eternal bliss of self-possession.