The king said: ‘Is the body, Nāgasena, dear to you recluses?’
‘No, they love not the body.’
‘Then why do you nourish it and lavish attention upon it?’
‘In all the times and places, O king, that you have gone down to battle, did you never get wounded by an arrow?’
‘Yes, that has happened to me.’
‘In such cases, O king, is not the wound anointed with salve, and smeared with oil, and bound up in a bandage.’
‘Yes, such things are done to it.’
‘What then? Is the wound dear to you that you treat it so tenderly, and lavish such attention upon it?’
‘No, it is not dear to me in spite of all that, which is only done that the flesh may grow again.’
‘Just so, great king, with the recluses and the body. Without cleaving to it do they bear about the body for the sake of righteousness of life. The body, O king, has been declared by the Blessed One to be like a wound. And therefore merely as a sore, and without cleaving to it, do the recluses bear about the, body. For it has been said by the Blessed One:
“Covered with clammy skin, an impure thing and foul,
Nine-apertured, it oozes, like a sore.”’
‘Well answered, Nāgasena!’