I’ve seen this one around a lot, and since someone just wrote asking about it I thought I’d address it.

“It is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles. Then the victory is yours. It cannot be taken from you, not by angels or by demons, heaven or hell.”

The quote is from Thomas Byrom’s “rendering” of the Dhammapada. The word “rendering” is in quotations because there is every indication that Byrom knew no Pali — the language in which the Dhammapada was written — and that he concocted his version with the help of other translations, a dictionary, and a large dose of wishful thinking. Pali can be a tricky language to decode even if you’re relatively familiar with the language. Even with a good grasp of Pali grammar, the verse works in particular are hard to decipher, because the regular rules of grammar are dispensed with in order to fit the words into the meter. Add in a soupçon of ambiguous vocabulary, a pinch of cryptic language that merely hints at experiences beyond all but the most spiritually advanced, a sprinkling of textual corruptions, and a heaped teaspoon of anachronisms, and sometimes even the best translators are left guessing.

Take away an understanding of the grammar, and basically what you have is word-salad. The non-Pali expert is now at an advantage! Because he or she, unconstrained by actual knowledge, can just make something up that more or less refers to the words in the verses, without having to worry about how those words might have been intended to work together in order to produce meaning. The non-Pali expert can rearrange the words and make up something new. Byrom seems to have done this, as does Ann Bancroft.

This particular verse is not one of Byrom’s worst, although I still wouldn’t go as far as to say that he actually translated it.

Here are three versions side by side: Thanissaro’s, Buddharakkhita’s, and Byrom’s.

You’ll notice that although the first two are radically different in style, they both cover the same ground, semantically speaking. Byrom’s even at a glance, is far more compact. Most of the meaning and detail has been lost.

“Better to conquer yourself than others” (Thanissaro) or “Self-conquest is far better than the conquest of others” has been turned into “Then the victory is yours.” NoW Byrom’s version is nice and poetic, but it’s not what’s in the Pali. “Heaven or hell” has appeared out of nowhere. Byrom basically takes the word-salad in front of him and arranges it into nice patterns.

It’s an odd thing, this business of publishers getting people who either don’t know the language (Byrom, Bancroft) to “translate” sacred texts, or asking people of other religions (e.g. Mascaro, who was a Hindu). There’s nothing in principle wrong with a non-Buddhist translating a Buddhist text, but there can be problems when the translator has his own religious agenda.

Unfortunately, Byrom’s “rendering” is one of the more popular versions of the Dhammapada out there. It’s achieved the status of being “beloved” and many people will say it’s their favorite. Unfortunately, although poetic, Byrom’s Dhammapada is just not the Dhammapada.

This one was emailed to me this morning by Thomas Hughes in the UK:

“Whatever words we utter should be chosen with care for people will hear them and be influenced by them for good or ill.”

This quote is all over the web, and in many books, attributed to the Buddha. I believe, though, that these are the words of Dwight Goddard, an early 20th century translator, editor, and popularizer of Buddhist texts, perhaps best known for his Buddhist Bible.

This sentence is found in Goddard’s rendering of the Kakacupama Sutta (MN 21), although Goddard’s version is a mixture of selected highlights and his own commentary. Unfortunately he didn’t distinguish between the two, and so he ended up passing off his own words as those of the Buddha.

As to purity by words. There are five pairs of words that cause much disturbance in the world:—words that are suitable on some occasions and wrong on other occasions; words that fit certain facts and that do not fit other facts; some words are quiet, some are wild; some words are beneficial, some harmful; some words are sympathetic, some are hateful. Whatever words we utter should be chosen with care for people will hear them and be influenced by them, for good or ill. If our minds are filled with sympathy and compassion, they will be resistent to the evil words we hear, and we must not let wild words pass our lips lest they arouse feelings of anger and hatred. The words we speak must always be words of sympathy and wisdom.

Suppose there is a man who wants to remove all the dirt from the ground…

And here’s the original sutta:

Monks, there are these five aspects of speech by which others may address you: timely or untimely, true or false, affectionate or harsh, beneficial or unbeneficial, with a mind of good-will or with inner hate. Others may address you in a timely way or an untimely way. They may address you with what is true or what is false. They may address you in an affectionate way or a harsh way. They may address you in a beneficial way or an unbeneficial way. They may address you with a mind of good-will or with inner hate. In any event, you should train yourselves: ‘Our minds will be unaffected and we will say no evil words. We will remain sympathetic to that person’s welfare, with a mind of good will, and with no inner hate. We will keep pervading him with an awareness imbued with good will and, beginning with him, we will keep pervading the all-encompassing world with an awareness imbued with good will — abundant, expansive, immeasurable, free from hostility, free from ill will.’ That’s how you should train yourselves.

Suppose that a man were to come along carrying a hoe & a basket, saying, ‘I will make this great earth be without earth…’

You’ll see why I refer to Goddard’s translation as a “rendering.” At best it’s rather a loose paraphrase of the original, and at worst he has inserted other material which is barely relevant to the original context of the teaching, which is about how we respond to others’ speech rather than on how we choose our own speech, so this sentence is totally out of place.

Where do these words come from? They may have been taken from another part of the Pali canon and relocated in the Kakacupama Sutta, but they may also be Goddard’s editorializing. If they are from elsewhere in the canon then they may, as with the rest of Goddard’s text, be highly paraphrased, so tracing any putative original may be tricky.

Dhammapada verse 133 makes a similar point:

Speak not harshly to anyone, for those thus spoken to might retort. Indeed, angry speech hurts, and retaliation may overtake you.

But this is more specific.

The general principle that our words can help or harm others is articulated by the Buddha’s disciple Vangisa:

One should speak only that word by which one would not torment oneself nor harm others. That word is indeed well spoken.

One should speak only pleasant words, words which are acceptable (to others). What one speaks without bringing evils to others is pleasant.

And there’s a rather extended exposition on this same principle, given by the Buddha to his son, Rahula:

“Whenever you want to perform a verbal act, you should reflect on it: ‘This verbal act I want to perform — would it lead to self-affliction, to the affliction of others, or to both? Is it an unskillful verbal act, with painful consequences, painful results?’ If, on reflection, you know that it would lead to self-affliction, to the affliction of others, or to both; it would be an unskillful verbal act with painful consequences, painful results, then any verbal act of that sort is absolutely unfit for you to do. But if on reflection you know that it would not cause affliction… it would be a skillful verbal action with happy consequences, happy results, then any verbal act of that sort is fit for you to do.

“While you are performing a verbal act, you should reflect on it: ‘This verbal act I am doing — is it leading to self-affliction, to the affliction of others, or to both? Is it an unskillful verbal act, with painful consequences, painful results?’ If, on reflection, you know that it is leading to self-affliction, to the affliction of others, or to both… you should give it up. But if on reflection you know that it is not… you may continue with it.

“Having performed a verbal act, you should reflect on it… If, on reflection, you know that it led to self-affliction, to the affliction of others, or to both; it was an unskillful verbal act with painful consequences, painful results, then you should confess it, reveal it, lay it open to the Teacher or to a knowledgeable companion in the holy life. Having confessed it… you should exercise restraint in the future. But if on reflection you know that it did not lead to affliction… it was a skillful verbal action with happy consequences, happy results, then you should stay mentally refreshed and joyful, training day and night in skillful mental qualities.”

Anyone aware of any closer parallels that Goddard might have been drawing from?

The graphic on this page is from The Quote Factory, which seems rather ironic. I wonder if they realize how many of their quotes are manufactured?

This particular one is all over the net, attributed to the Buddha. It’s actually by Osho, the “Guru Formerly Known as Bhagwan Shri Rajneesh,” who was famous for his numerous Rolls Royces, the wild sex he encouraged among his disciples, and the 1984 bioterror attack that his Oregon Commune launched on 751 citizens of The Dalles, Oregon, in an attempt to sway the outcome of an election so that their own candidates could win the county elections.

The quote is actually Rajneesh giving his interpretation of what the Buddha said, rather than an actual quote from the scriptures. It’s found in his Book of the Books – Volume 2 (1983). Rajneesh’s words start by being a reasonable paraphrase, but by the time they get to “intrinsic nature” (a concept alien to the early Buddhist texts) they are very far removed from anything the Buddha said.

Buddha said, “Somebody can throw a burning torch into the river. It will remain alight until it falls into the river. The moment it falls into the river, all fire is gone—the river cools it. You throw abuses at me—they are fire when you throw them, but the moment they reach me, in my coolness their fire is lost. They no longer hurt. You throw thorns—falling in my silence they become flowers. I act out of my own intrinsic nature.

Here’s the Buddha using the analogy of throwing a torch into a river. You’ll notice it’s not very pithy. The Buddha wasn’t much into sound-bites:

“Suppose, monks, a person were to come holding a burning grass-torch, and he were to say: ‘With this burning grass-torch I shall set fire to and scorch this river Ganges.’ What do you think, monks, could that person set fire to and scorch the river Ganges with a grass-torch?”

“No, indeed not, most venerable sir.”

“And why not?”

“Because, most venerable sir, the river Ganges is deep and without measure. It is not possible to set fire to and scorch the river Ganges with a burning grass-torch. On the contrary, that person will only reap weariness and frustration.”

“In the same way, monks, others may use these five modes of speech when speaking to you — speech that is timely or untimely, true or false, gentle or harsh, with a good or a harmful motive, and with a loving heart or hostility. In this way, monks, you should train yourselves: ‘Neither shall our minds be affected by this, nor for this matter shall we give vent to evil words, but we shall remain full of concern and pity, with a mind of love, and we shall not give in to hatred. On the contrary, we shall live projecting thoughts of universal love to that very person, making him as well as the whole world the object of our thoughts of universal love — thoughts that have grown great, exalted and measureless. We shall dwell radiating these thoughts which are void of hostility and ill will.’ It is in this way, monks, that you should train yourselves.”

The image of thorns (well, of something) being thrown and turning to flowers is from the Buddhist tradition, but not from the words of the Buddha. In post-canonical biographies of the Buddha, an incident where Shakyamuni is said to have been attacked by the armies of Mara (the personification of doubt) is dramatized, with Mara’s hordes hurling weapons at the Buddha. The weapons turn to flowers and fall harmlessly around him.

Here, for example, is an extract from Chapter 13 of Ashvaghosha’s Buddhacarita:

41. One [of Mara's horde], rising up like the sun in full splendour, rained down from the sky a great shower of live embers, as at the end of an aeon blazing Meru showers down the pulverised scoriae of the golden valleys.

42. But that shower of embers full of sparks, when scattered at the foot of the Bodhi tree, became a shower of red lotus-petals through the operation of the great saint’s boundless charity.

43. But with all these various scorching assaults on his body and his mind, and all these missiles showered down upon him, the Śākya saint did not in the least degree move from his posture, clasping firmly his resolution as a kinsman.

44. Then others spat out serpents from their mouths as from old decayed trunks of trees; but, as if held fast by a charm, near him they neither breathed nor discharged venom nor moved.

45. Others, having become great clouds, emitting lightning and uttering the fierce roar of thunderbolts, poured a shower of stones upon that tree, — but it turned to a pleasant shower of flowers.

Enjoy!

I came across this supposed quote of the Buddha in a book called “Butterflies and Moths” by Dr. Walter Robert Corti. It says that

“In his last sermon before his death, Buddha spoke thus to the butterflies: ‘I thank you. You are my masters. From you I have learned more than from all the writings of the Brahmans.’”

I wonder if this is legit.

It certainly strikes me as being not only fake, but weird. And it appears in several books and magazines published since Dr. Corti’s book appeared in 1964.

It appears, according to Google Books, in a 1967 edition of “The Structurist,” which is “an international, interdisciplinary journal dealing with art, architecture, ecology, culture and communication.” That date may be questionable, though, since Google’s dating for journals often refers to the date that the first issue was published, rather than the issue in which the quotation appears.

It shows up in Briony Penn’s A Year on the Wild Side (1999), in Robert Michael Pyle’s Watching Washington Butterflies: An Interpretive Guide to the State’s 134 Species (1974), and also in his Handbook for Butterfly Watchers (1992).

I’ve only found one instance of this on the web, where freelance writer Kristin MacLeod quotes Pyle.

This quote is the lepidopterists’ equivalent of “The forest is a peculiar organism of unlimited kindness and benevolence that makes no demands for its sustenance and extends generously the products of its life activity; it provides protection to all beings, offering shade even to the axeman who destroys it,” which is so beloved of authors of books on forestry.

Goodness only knows where this comes from. The Buddha’s last sermon is in the Maha-Parinibbana Sutta, and there’s nothing there about butterflies. In fact I don’t recall the Buddha even mentioning butterflies, although there are some nice references to bees, such as this one from the Dhammapada:

As a bee gathers honey from the flower
without injuring its color or fragrance,
even so the sage
goes on his alms-round in the village.

Some early translators of this verse used the more poetic “butterfly” in place of the more workmanlike “bee” (bhamara) but a reverse search of my Pali-English dictionary failed to show up any reference to butterflies at all.

There are mentions of moths in the Pali canon, however, and the Buddha does make a teaching out of their headlong rush to destruction:

One time the Buddha was staying near Savatthi, in Jeta’s grove, at the garden of Anathapindika. At that time he was seated under the open sky, on a night of blinding darkness, while oil lamps were burning. And also at that time a great number of winged insects were flying around and falling into those oil lamps, thus meeting with misfortune, meeting with ruin, meeting with both misfortune and ruin. The Buddha saw those great number of winged insects flying around and falling into those oil lamps… And then the Buddha, understanding the meaning of this, gave utterance — at that moment — to this profound utterance:

Rushing up but then too far, they miss the point;
Only causing ever newer bonds to grow.
So obsessed are some by what is seen and heard,
They fly just like these moths — straight into the flames.

But he didn’t say that the moths were his teachers, or offer them thanks. The Buddha in fact made a point of saying that he had no teacher:

All-conquering, all-knowing am I,
with regard to all things, unadhering.
All-abandoning, released in the ending of craving:
having fully known on my own,
to whom should I point as my teacher?

But that’s a little pedantic. The Buddha did point out,

…in this world with its devas, Maras, & Brahmas, in this generation with its brahmans and contemplatives, its royalty and common-folk, I do not see another brahman or contemplative more consummate in knowledge and vision of release than I, on whom I could dwell in dependence, honoring and respecting him.

And he went on to say that it was the Dhamma on which he would rely, “fully awakened, honoring and respecting it.”

But this isn’t to say that the Buddha did not learn from others. He was a flexible man, and in practical and sometimes in spiritual matters he would accept “input” from others or draw life lessons from his observations. In passages quoted above he draws lessons from the symbiosis of bee and blossom, and the destructive encounter of moth and flame. But I don’t think he ever thanked bees, moths, or butterflies, or acknowledged them as his “master.”

It’s rather odd, really, that the Buddha doesn’t seem to have mentioned the metamorphosis of caterpillars into butterflies as an example of change. It would seem to be an excellent analogy to draw upon.

One small thing: the reference to “the writings of the Brahmans” is anachronistic. The Brahmans were the priestly caste of the Buddha’s time, but their tradition at that time seems to have been oral rather than literary.

And did the Buddha ever say thank you? I’m not sure he did…

If anyone has a clue how this odd quote came about, please leave a comment or send me a message through the contact form.

“Our theories of the eternal are as valuable as are those which a chick which has not broken its way through its shell might form of the outside world.”

This is very fake. The image of a check pecking its way through a shell is one the Buddha used, but this sentence isn’t even close, and the language of “the eternal” is totally foreign and Hindu-sounding.

The “theories of the eternal” quote seems to come from a 1946 book by Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan, called Gautama the Buddha. The words are Radhakrishnan’s, not the Buddha’s. On page 31 he says:

“To use an image employed by him — our theories of the eternal are as valuable as are those which a chick which has not broken its way through its shell might form of the outside world. In this he resembles some of the greatest thinkers of the world.”

Radakrishnana the first Vice President of India and Indian’s second President. He was a statesman, a philosopher, and a Hindu, of course, so the “theories of the eternal” part of the quote is a reflection of his own religious beliefs rather than anything the Buddha might have said.

The image of breaking out of a shell is an analogy the Buddha used, although there was no reference to “the eternal.” For example, the Buddha described himself (in the Vinaya Pitaka) as being like a chick, first-hatched from a clutch of eggs:

“I having pierced through the shell of ignorance for the sake of creatures wrapped in ignorance, egg-born (as it were), am unique in the world, utterly enlightened with unsurpassed enlightenment. I myself am the world’s eldest and highest.”

So the Buddha’s awakening was a metaphorical breaking out of a shell of ignorance, but not in the context of “theories of the eternal,” unless it’s to suggest that the Buddha left behind any such theories when he broke through the shell of ignorance. But he certainly didn’t say “Our theories of the eternal are as valuable as are those which a chick which has not broken its way through its shell might form of the outside world.”

It is said that one day the Buddha was walking through a village. A very angry and rude young man came up and began insulting him. “You have no right teaching others,” he shouted. “You are as stupid as everyone else. You are nothing but a fake!”

The Buddha was not upset by these insults. Instead he asked the young man, “Tell me, if you buy a gift for someone, and that person does not take it, to whom does the gift belong?”

The young man was surprised to be asked such a strange question and answered, “It would belong to me, because I bought the gift.”

The Buddha smiled and said, “That is correct. And it is exactly the same with your anger. If you become angry with me and I do not get insulted, then the anger falls back on you. You are then the only one who becomes unhappy, not me. All you have done is hurt yourself.”

I realized that this brings up a scenario that I haven’t addressed, because I haven’t really given it much thought. What you’ve just read is a retelling of a story from the Buddhist scriptures. Here’s the original:

I have heard that on one occasion the Blessed One was staying near Rajagaha in the Bamboo Grove, the Squirrels’ Sanctuary. Then the brahman Akkosaka Bharadvaja heard that a brahman of the Bharadvaja clan had gone forth from the home life into homelessness in the presence of the Blessed One. Angered & displeased, he went to the Blessed One and, on arrival, insulted & cursed him with rude, harsh words.

When this was said, the Blessed One said to him: “What do you think, brahman: Do friends & colleagues, relatives & kinsmen come to you as guests?”

“Yes, Master Gotama, sometimes friends & colleagues, relatives & kinsmen come to me as guests.”

“And what do you think: Do you serve them with staple & non-staple foods & delicacies?”

“Yes, sometimes I serve them with staple & non-staple foods & delicacies.”

“And if they don’t accept them, to whom do those foods belong?”

“If they don’t accept them, Master Gotama, those foods are all mine.”

“In the same way, brahman, that with which you have insulted me, who is not insulting; that with which you have taunted me, who is not taunting; that with which you have berated me, who is not berating: that I don’t accept from you. It’s all yours, brahman. It’s all yours.

“Whoever returns insult to one who is insulting, returns taunts to one who is taunting, returns a berating to one who is berating, is said to be eating together, sharing company, with that person. But I am neither eating together nor sharing your company, brahman. It’s all yours. It’s all yours.”

You can see that although the words differ, it’s basically the same story. There’s a bit of elaboration — for example in the original we’re not exactly told what Akkosaka Bharadvaja said to the Buddha, just that it’s insulting, while in the retelling we’re given details, such as the Buddha’s “a fake” — but essentially there’s no difference in the message being conveyed.

Now words are being put in the Buddha’s mouth. Would I consider the Facebook parable to be unacceptable? Actually, I wouldn’t. When you’re teaching, or just talking to someone, and you want to use an illustration from the Buddhist scriptures, you can’t be expected to have memorized the stories word for word, or to say “Wait till I run home and grab my copy of the Majjhima Nikaya!” You just tell the story, in your own words. Sometimes you’ll do it well, sometimes you’ll make a mess of it. But at least it’s an honest attempt at conveying a story.

You’re putting words into the mouth of the Buddha, but as a dramatic technique, and it’s generally obvious you’re not making claim that the Buddha said the exact words you’ve ascribed to him. There’s the Buddha of the Pali canon, and there’s the Buddha of your imagination. It seems to me that both are valid, and that you simply have to be careful not to mix them up.

Mixing up these two Buddhas often happens when these dramatizations of the suttas are put into writing, though. Those who aren’t familiar with the Buddhist scriptures may take something like the Facebook parable above to be canonical, and then extract the Buddha’s words as a standalone quote. Now, attributed to “The Buddha” the quote will be taken by others to be canonical, and so a Fake Buddha Quote is born.

Part of the problem is that often the Buddha of the imagination is more interesting than the Buddha of the canon! His language is generally more contemporary and pithy — just compare the length of the two versions above, and also see which one feels better to read.

Now I’m not saying it’s bad to paraphrase the suttas because the paraphrase might be taken out of context and presented as canonical. That would be absurdly cautious. In fact I think it’s good, in the contexts of talks, and even in books, to bring the suttas to life by dramatizing them. When Jonathan Landaw wrote “The Story of Buddha,” from where the Facebook parable comes, I’m sure he had no notion of “faking” anything or of trying to pass off his own words as the Buddha’s.

Why am I writing all this? I’m really just clarifying in my own mind the limits of what I consider to be acceptable. On the one hand we might have the example someone finding an anonymous quote lying around and deciding to attribute it to be Buddha for whatever reason. This seems to happen a lot, and is something that I don’t find at all acceptable. Even more extreme, I suspect some people just make up some spiritual-sounding saying and try to pass it off as the Buddha’s words. Also unacceptable. On the other hand we have this more innocent sort of “retelling” of a story from the canon, and I think it’s fine. No misrepresentation is being intended, and if sometimes others might turn these stories into Fake Buddha Quotes it’s they who are at fault, not the original author.

Lori wrote, saying:

A friend posted this quote in Facebook,

“A family is a place where minds come in contact with one another. If these minds love one
another the home will be as beautiful as a flower garden. But if these minds get out of harmony with one another it is like a storm that plays havoc with the garden.” Buddha

It didn’t sound like anything from the Buddha, so I Googled and found it here: http://www.quotationspage.com/quote/5229.html, but in my own searching, cannot find any suttas with this quote. I suspect it’s a false attribution.

This is indeed misattributed. It’s from a Japanese book, dating back to the 1960s in its English edition, called The Teaching of the Buddha.

There are some recognizable scriptures in this book, but for the most part it’s a book of modern interpretations of what Buddhism is, rather than a presentation of literally “the teaching of the Buddha.” It’s easy to see how the confusion would arise, given the title.

The forest is a peculiar organism of unlimited kindness and benevolence that makes no demands for its sustenance and extends generously the products of its life activity; it provides protection to all beings, offering shade even to the axeman who destroys it.
— Gautama Buddha

I’d never come across this one until someone called Upul, from Australia, asked me about it. It certainly strikes me as being fake, on the grounds that the language of “a peculiar organism” isn’t something he would have said. But it may be based on something canonical, or be an amalgamation of commentary and a genuine quotation.

It’s all over the place, once you look for it.

The earliest reference I’ve found to this in print is from 1941, in “Forest soils: origin, properties, relation to vegetation, and silvicultural management” (page 195) by Sergius Alexander Wilde, and published by the Soils Dept., College of Agriculture, University of Wisconsin. Unfortunately no source is given…

“Resolutely train yourself to attain peace” is a genuine quote from the Buddha.

It’s from the Utthana Sutta of the Sutta Nipata.

In Pāli it’s “Daḷhaṃ sikkhatha santiyā.”