The one who possesses true understanding, whose mind is steady and pure, attains a state from which there is no return to birth. For such a person, understanding serves as the charioteer, and the mind as the reins, guiding them safely to the end of the spiritual journey, to that highest state of Vishnu. There is a natural hierarchy in existence: objects are higher than the senses, the mind is higher than objects, the intellect is higher than the mind, and the great self is higher than the intellect. Yet, even above the great self lies the unmanifest; beyond the unmanifest is the supreme person. There is nothing higher than this person—this is the utmost limit, the supreme goal. This self, though hidden in all beings and not easily revealed, can be seen by those whose intellect is sharp and whose vision is subtle. The wise, therefore, restrain speech within the mind, restrain the mind in knowledge, restrain knowledge in the great self, and finally, restrain the great self in the peaceful self. Awaken! Arise! Seek the wise and understand the truth, for the path is sharp and difficult, like the edge of a razor—so have the sages declared. That which is soundless, touchless, formless, undecaying, tasteless, eternal, and scentless; without beginning or end, higher than the great, and steadfast—realizing this, one is freed from the mouth of death. Having heard and understood the ancient story of Nachiketa, as spoken by Death, the wise are honored in the world of Brahman. Whoever, with devotion, teaches this supreme secret in an assembly of seekers, or at the time of sacred rites, is prepared for infinity—indeed, ready for the boundless. The self-born has directed the senses outward, so people look outside themselves and not within. Yet, a wise person, longing for immortality, turns their gaze inward and beholds the inner self. The unwise, like children, chase outward desires and fall into the wide net of death, but the wise, knowing immortality, do not seek the permanent among impermanent things. It is by the self that one knows form, taste, smell, sound, touch, and the pleasures of union—by this alone does one perceive; without it, nothing is perceived. This, indeed, is that self. The one who observes the end of both waking and dreaming states by that self, having known the great, all-pervading one, does not grieve. He who knows this self—the enjoyer of sweetness, the living soul near at hand, the lord of what was and what will be—fears nothing. This, indeed, is that self. He who existed before ascetic practice and before the waters, who, having entered the secret place, abides there and is perceived by all beings—this, indeed, is that self. That which, as the goddess Aditi, composed of divinity, arises with the breath and, having entered the secret place, abides there, which is brought forth by beings—this, indeed, is that self. Hidden in the woods, Jātavedas is cherished like an embryo by expectant mothers; day by day, to those awake and offering oblations, Agni is to be praised by men—this, indeed, is that. From whom the sun rises and into whom it sets, in whom all the gods are established—none goes beyond that. This, indeed, is that self. Whatever is here is there; whatever is there is here. He who sees difference here goes from death to death. This realization is attained only by the mind; here, there is no diversity at all. He who sees difference here goes from death to death. The person of the size of a thumb stands in the middle within the self, the lord of what was and what will be—he fears nothing. This, indeed, is that self. The person of the size of a thumb, like a flame without smoke, the lord of what was and what will be—he is today, he is tomorrow. This, indeed, is that self. Just as water poured on a rugged mountain runs off in various directions, so, seeing duties as separate, one follows them accordingly. But as pure water poured into pure water becomes just so, so does the self of the knower who truly knows. In the city with eleven gates dwells the unborn self, who, though the mind is crooked, is established within; he does not grieve, for being liberated, he is free. This, indeed, is that self. He is the swan dwelling in purity, the Vasu in the mid-region, the hotṛ on the altar, the guest in the house, dwelling among men, in the noble, in the right, in the sky, born of water, born of cows, born of truth, born of mountains—truth, the great. He raises the breath upward and sends the downward breath back; all the gods worship the dwarf seated in the middle. As this embodied one, when the body falls away, is released from the body—what remains here? This, indeed, is that self. No mortal lives by breath or by the downward breath alone; they live by another, on whom these two depend. Now, hear of this ancient, secret Brahman, and how, upon reaching death, the self becomes, O Gautama. Some embodied beings enter a womb for the sake of a body; others go into stationary forms, according to their deeds and knowledge. That person who, creating desire after desire, remains awake among those who sleep—he alone is the pure one, he is Brahman, he is called the immortal; upon him all worlds rest, and none goes beyond him—this, indeed, is that self. As fire, one alone, having entered the world, takes on a form corresponding to every form, so too the inner self of all beings, one alone, takes on a form corresponding to every form, both within and without. As wind, one alone, having entered the world, takes on a form corresponding to every form, so too the inner self of all beings, one alone, takes on a form corresponding to every form, both within and without. As the sun, the eye of the whole world, is not tainted by external faults seen by the eye, so too the inner self of all beings, one alone, is not tainted by the sorrows of the world, being beyond them. The one ruler, the inner self of all beings, makes the one form manifold—those wise ones who perceive him established in themselves attain eternal happiness, not others. He is the eternal among non-eternal things, the conscious among the conscious, the one who grants desires to the many—those wise ones who perceive him established in themselves attain eternal peace, not others. They think of that as this—indescribable, supreme bliss. How indeed may I know it? Does it shine or does it not shine? There the sun does not shine, nor the moon and stars; these lightnings do not shine, how then this fire? That shining, all else shines after it; by its light, all this shines.