„Only here is there purity“ — that's what they say — „No other doctrines are pure“ — so they say. Insisting that what they depend on is good, they are deeply entrenched in their personal truths. Seeking controversy, they plunge into an assembly, regarding one another as fools. Relying on others' authority, they speak in debate. Desiring praise, they claim to be skilled. Engaged in disputes in the midst of the assembly, — anxious, desiring praise — the one defeated is chagrined. Shaken with criticism, he seeks for an opening. He whose doctrine is [judged as] demolished, defeated, by those judging the issue: He laments, he grieves — the inferior exponent. „He beat me,“ he mourns. These disputes have arisen among contemplatives. In them are elation, dejection. Seeing this, one should abstain from disputes, for they have no other goal than the gaining of praise. He who is praised there for expounding his doctrine in the midst of the assembly, laughs on that account & grows haughty, attaining his heart's desire. That haughtiness will be his grounds for vexation, for he'll speak in pride & conceit. Seeing this, one should abstain from debates. No purity is attained by them, say the skilled. Like a strong man nourished on royal food, you go about, roaring, searching out an opponent. Wherever the battle is, go there, strong man. As before, there's none here. Those who dispute, taking hold of a view, saying, „This, and this only, is true,“ those you can talk to. Here there is nothing — no confrontation at the birth of disputes. Among those who live above confrontation not pitting view against view, whom would you gain as opponent, Pasura, among those here who are grasping no more? So here you come, conjecturing, your mind conjuring viewpoints. You're paired off with a pure one and so cannot proceed.