“Well then, chieftain, I shall give you a simile. For by means of a simile some sensible people understand the meaning of what is said.

Once upon a time, a certain horn blower took his horn and traveled to a borderland, where he went to a certain village. Standing in the middle of the village, he sounded his horn three times, then placed it on the ground and sat down to one side.

Then the people of the borderland thought, ‘What is making this sound, so arousing, sensuous, intoxicating, infatuating, and captivating?’ They gathered around the horn blower and said, ‘Mister, what is making this sound, so arousing, sensuous, intoxicating, infatuating, and captivating?’

‘The sound is made by this, which is called a horn.’

They laid that horn on its back, saying, ‘Speak, good horn! Speak, good horn!’ But still the horn made no sound.

Then they lay the horn bent over, they lay it on its side, they lay it on its other side; they stood it upright, they stood it upside down; they struck it with fists, stones, rods, and swords; and they gave it a good shake, saying, ‘Speak, good horn! Speak, good horn!’ But still the horn made no sound.

So the horn blower thought, ‘How foolish are these borderland folk! For how can they seek the sound of a horn so irrationally?’ And as they looked on, he picked up the horn, sounded it three times, and took it away with him.

Then the people of the borderland thought, ‘So, it seems, when what is called a horn is accompanied by a person, effort, and wind, it makes a sound. But when these things are absent it makes no sound.’

In the same way, so long as this body is full of life and warmth and consciousness it walks back and forth, stands, sits, and lies down. It sees sights with the eye, hears sounds with the ear, smells odors with the nose, tastes flavors with the tongue, feels touches with the body, and knows thoughts with the mind. But when it lacks life and warmth and consciousness it does none of these things. By this method, too, it ought to be proven that there is an afterlife.”

“Even though Master Kassapa says this, still I think that there’s no afterlife.”

“Can you prove it?”

“I can.”

“How, exactly, chieftain?”

“Suppose they were to arrest a bandit, a criminal and present him to me, saying, ‘Sir, this is a bandit, a criminal. Punish him as you will.’ I say to them, ‘Well then, sirs, cut open this man’s outer skin. Hopefully we might see his soul.’ They cut open his outer skin, but we see no soul. I say to them, ‘Well then, sirs, cut open his inner skin, flesh, sinews, bones, or marrow. Hopefully we’ll see his soul.’ They do so, but we see no soul. This is how I prove that there’s no afterlife.”