kaṭhopaniṣad - adhyāya 1, vallī 2

The good is one thing, and the pleasant is another; both these, serving different purposes, bind a person. It is well for those who choose the good, but they who choose the pleasant fall short of their true goal.

Both the good and the pleasant approach a human being; the wise man examines both and discriminates between them. He prefers the good to the pleasant, but the unwise man chooses the pleasant for the sake of worldly well-being.

O Nachiketa, contemplating those pleasant and beautiful desires, you have renounced them. You have not accepted this path of wealth in which so many men sink.

Wide apart and leading to different ends are these two—what is known as ignorance and what is known as knowledge. I consider you, Nachiketa, as one who desires knowledge, for the many pleasant things did not tempt you.

Dwelling in the midst of ignorance, the wise-thinking and self-conceited fools wander about, deluded and afflicted, like blind men led by one who is himself blind.

The path to the hereafter does not shine for the childish man, who is heedless and deluded by the glamour of wealth. Thinking that "this world is the only reality and there is no other," he falls again and again under my sway.

Many have not even heard of the Self; even many who hear of It do not understand It. A marvelous person is the teacher of the Self, and an adept is the one who attains It; marvelous is the knower, instructed by a master.

When taught by an inferior person, this Self is not easily understood, as It is thought of in many ways. But when taught by one who has become identified with It, there is no further doubt, for It is subtler than the subtle and beyond ordinary logic.

This conviction, O dearest, cannot be attained by argument; but when taught by another, it is easily understood. You have attained this, for you are steadfast in truth; may we have more questioners like you, O Nachiketa.

I know that treasures are transitory, for that which is eternal cannot be attained by things which are not eternal. Therefore, the Nachiketa fire has been kindled by me, and through these transient things, I have attained the Eternal.

O Nachiketa, having seen the fulfillment of all desires, the foundation of the world, the endless fruits of sacrificial rites, the other shore where there is no fear, the exalted state that is praised by all, and the great foundation, you, being wise, have steadfastly renounced them all.

The wise one, through the practice of meditation on the inner Self, realizes the ancient, effulgent Lord—who is difficult to see, deeply hidden in the heart, and dwelling in the midst of misery—and thereby casts aside both joy and sorrow.

The mortal who has heard this and comprehended it, who has separated the subtle Self from the body and attained this righteous essence, finds cause for rejoicing, having reached that which is truly worthy of joy. I believe the door of Brahman is wide open for you, O Nachiketa.

Tell me, O Yama, of that which you see as transcending virtue and vice, transcending cause and effect, and transcending both the past and the future.

I will tell you briefly of that goal which all the Vedas proclaim, which all penances declare, and desiring which seekers live a life of continence: it is Om.

This syllable is indeed Brahman; this syllable is indeed the highest. He who knows this syllable obtains whatever he desires.

This is the best support; this is the supreme support. Knowing this support, one becomes glorious in the world of Brahman.

The knowing Self is never born, nor does It die. It has not sprung from anything, nor has anything sprung from It. It is unborn, eternal, everlasting, and ancient; It is not killed when the body is slain.

If the slayer thinks he kills, or if the slain thinks he is killed, both of them do not understand; for this Self neither slays nor is slain.

The Self, smaller than the smallest and greater than the greatest, is hidden in the hearts of all living creatures. A person who is free from desires and grief, through the grace of the Creator, beholds the majesty of the Self.

Sitting, He travels far; lying down, He goes everywhere. Who other than I is fit to know this God, who is joyous and yet devoid of joy?

The wise man, knowing the Self as bodiless within bodies, as permanent among the impermanent, and as all-pervading and great, does not grieve.

This Self cannot be attained by instruction, nor by intellect, nor by much hearing. It is attained only by the one whom the Self chooses; to such a one, the Self reveals its own nature.

He who has not turned away from evil conduct, whose senses are not subdued, whose mind is not concentrated, or whose mind is not at peace, cannot attain this Self through knowledge.

He to whom the Brahmana and the Kshatriya classes are but food, and for whom death itself is a condiment—who can truly know where He is?