In plain words
But all these things that are seen are swept away in the stream of time. At some time or other, neither the eye that saw nor the object that was seen, neither of the two, will be there. These are not permanent. These eyes? Everything has them; not men alone. Beasts, birds and animals, worms and insects too have eyes. Then what use is it that we have eyes? What is special in being human? To be born a man and be content with eyes of skin alone is our misfortune. Man needs the eye of Jñāna. When that is not there, what use is all this study? What is our cleverness? What is the skill of our Buddhi? What is our power of intellect? What is the divinity in being human? Is not a person who cannot recognise this divinity of no use? ‘Jantūnāṃ narajanma durlabham,’ they said. Among the living beings born in this creation, the highest, the best, is man. That is why they went on describing it grandly: humanness rests on two main principles, courtesy and good character. In being human we must experience the principle of Jñāna. Our eyes are all merely inert. You cannot see your own eyes yourself. Then how can these inert eyes see the most subtle mind? These eyes, which cannot see even the mind, how can they behold the Ātma? You, who cannot know yourself, how can you recognise what concerns others?
Whoever has mastered the mind, he alone is the victor
In the world, the life that matters is the life of the Ātma alone! The life of the body, the life of the Buddhi: these lives are no lives at all. Somehow wasting time, feeding the body, and at the very last bringing the body to its end: this is what goes on today as man's chief aim. Only because they fall under the influence of place, time and circumstance are they unable to recognise the form of Satya in human birth.