- When this world is ever ablaze, why this laughter, why this jubilation? Shrouded by darkness, will you not see the light?
- Behold this body - a painted image, a mass of heaped up sores, infirm, full of hankering - of which nothing is lasting or stable!
- Fully worn out is this body, a nest of disease, and fragile. This foul mass breaks up, for death is the end of life 🪦.
- These dove-colored bones 🦴are like gourds that lie scattered about in autumn. Having seen them, how can one seek delight?
- This city (body) is built of bones, plastered with flesh and blood; within are decay and death, pride, and jealousy.
- Even gorgeous royal chariots wear out, and indeed this body too wears out. But the Dhamma of the Good does not age; thus the Good make it known to the good.
- The man of little learning grows old like a bull. He grows only in bulk, but, his wisdom does not grow.
- Through many a birth in samsara have I wandered in vain, seeking in the builder of this house (of life). Repeated birth is indeed suffering.
- O house-builder, you are see! You will not build this house again. For your rafters are broken and your ridgepole shattered. My mind has reached the Unconditioned; I have attained the destruction of craving.
- Those who in youth have not led the holy life, or have failed to acquire wealth, languish like old cranes in the pond without fish.
- Those who in youth have not lead the holy life, or have failed to acquire wealth, lie sighing over the past, like worn out arrows (shot from) a bow.
Dhammapada Chapter 11:146-156