"Then even here, friend Kamanita, in the world of sense, the Perfect One is not, in truth, and in his very essence, to be apprehended by thee. Hast thou, then, a right to say that the Perfect One—or the monk who has freed himself from all impurity—is doomed to annihilation when his life ends, that he does not exist beyond death; and solely because thou art in possession of no powers by which thou canst, in truth, and in his very essence, apprehend him there?"
Questioned in such fashion, Kamanita sat for some time speechless, his body bent, his head bowed.
"Even if I have no right to make that assertion," he said finally, "it yet seems to me to be implied plainly enough in the silence of the Perfect One. For he certainly would not have maintained such a silence if he had had anything joyous to communicate, which would of course be the case if he knew that for the monk who had conquered suffering there remained after death not only not annihilation, but eternal and blessed life. Certain it is that such a communication could only serve as a spur to his disciples and be a help to them in all true effort."
"Dost thou think so, my friend? But how if the Perfect One had not pointed to the end of all suffering as the final goal—even as he also began with suffering in the beginning—but had set himself to extol an eternal and blessed life out beyond it and beyond this life of ours. Many of his disciples would assuredly have been delighted with the idea, would have clung to it eagerly, would have longed for its fulfilment with the passionate longing which disturbs all cheerfulness and serenity of thought; but would they not also have been involved unperceived in the meshes of the powerful net of Life's desire? And while clinging to a beyond for
