I see the world’s population floundering, given to craving for future lives. Base men wail in the jaws of death, not rid of craving for life after life.

See them flounder over belongings, like fish in puddles of a dried-up stream. Seeing this, live unselfishly, forming no attachment to future lives.

Rid of desire for both ends, having completely understood contact, free of greed, doing nothing for which they’d blame themselves, the attentive don’t cling to the seen and the heard.

Having completely understood perception <j>and having crossed the flood, the sage, not clinging to possessions, with dart plucked out, living diligently, does not hope for this world or the next.

Anthology of Discourses 4.3 Eight on Malice