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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 123 pages of information about Siddhartha.

“I wish that you, oh exalted one, would not be angry with me,” said the young man.  “I have not spoken to you like this to argue with you, to argue about words.  You are truly right, there is little to opinions.  But let me say this one more thing:  I have not doubted in you for a single moment.  I have not doubted for a single moment that you are Buddha, that you have reached the goal, the highest goal towards which so many thousands of Brahmans and sons of Brahmans are on their way.  You have found salvation from death.  It has come to you in the course of your own search, on your own path, through thoughts, through meditation, through realizations, through enlightenment.  It has not come to you by means of teachings!  And—­thus is my thought, oh exalted one,—­nobody will obtain salvation by means of teachings!  You will not be able to convey and say to anybody, oh venerable one, in words and through teachings what has happened to you in the hour of enlightenment!  The teachings of the enlightened Buddha contain much, it teaches many to live righteously, to avoid evil.  But there is one thing which these so clear, these so venerable teachings do not contain:  they do not contain the mystery of what the exalted one has experienced for himself, he alone among hundreds of thousands.  This is what I have thought and realized, when I have heard the teachings.  This is why I am continuing my travels—­not to seek other, better teachings, for I know there are none, but to depart from all teachings and all teachers and to reach my goal by myself or to die.  But often, I’ll think of this day, oh exalted one, and of this hour, when my eyes beheld a holy man.”

The Buddha’s eyes quietly looked to the ground; quietly, in perfect equanimity his inscrutable face was smiling.

“I wish,” the venerable one spoke slowly, “that your thoughts shall not be in error, that you shall reach the goal!  But tell me:  Have you seen the multitude of my Samanas, my many brothers, who have taken refuge in the teachings?  And do you believe, oh stranger, oh Samana, do you believe that it would be better for them all the abandon the teachings and to return into the life the world and of desires?”

“Far is such a thought from my mind,” exclaimed Siddhartha.  “I wish that they shall all stay with the teachings, that they shall reach their goal!  It is not my place to judge another person’s life.  Only for myself, for myself alone, I must decide, I must chose, I must refuse.  Salvation from the self is what we Samanas search for, oh exalted one.  If I merely were one of your disciples, oh venerable one, I’d fear that it might happen to me that only seemingly, only deceptively my self would be calm and be redeemed, but that in truth it would live on and grow, for then I had replaced my self with the teachings, my duty to follow you, my love for you, and the community of the monks!”

With half of a smile, with an unwavering openness and kindness, Gotama looked into the stranger’s eyes and bid him to leave with a hardly noticeable gesture.

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