The life of mortals here cannot be predicted by any sign, and (its duration) is uncertain. (It is) difficult and brief, and it is combined with misery.

For there is no means whereby those born do not die. Even (for one) arriving at old age there is death, for of such a nature are living creatures.

Just as for ripe fruit there is constantly fear of falling, so for mortals who are born there is constantly fear of death.

Just as vessels made of clay by a potter all have breaking as their end, so is the life of mortals.

Young and old, those who are foolish and those who are wise, all go into the power of death, all have death as their end.

When they are overcome by death, going from here to the next world, the father does not protect the son, nor the relatives the (other) relatives.

See, while the relatives are actually looking on, (and) wailing much, each one of the mortals is led away like a cow to be slaughtered.

Thus the world is smitten by death and old age. Therefore wise men do not grieve, knowing the way of the world.

Whose path you do not know, whether come or gone, not seeing both ends you lament (him) uselessly.

If lamenting (and) harming himself a deluded person should pluck out any advantage (from his action), a wise man would do that too.

For not by weeping and grief does one obtain peace of mind. His misery arises all the more, his body is harmed.

He becomes thin and discoloured, harming himself by himself. The departed ones do not fare well thereby. Lamentation is useless.

Not abandoning grief a person goes all the more to misery. Bewailing the dead man he goes under the influence of grief...

Monks, these three terrors part mother and son. What three?

A mother cannot bear to see her son grow old. She says, “I am growing old. Let not my son grow old.” The son likewise cannot bear to see his mother grow old. He says, “I am growing old. Let not my mother grow old.” And it is the same with regard to getting sick and dying. These are the three terrors that part mother and son.

But, monks, there is a way, there is a practice that leads to the abandoning, to the overpassing of these three terrors that part mother and son, a way which joins mother and son. What is that way, what is that practice which so leads?

It is just this Eightfold Way, to wit: Right view, right thinking, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness, right concentration. That is the way, that is the practice...

“I hope, Phagguna, you’re bearing up, keeping going; that your aches and pains grow less, not more; that there are signs of their growing less, not more?”

“Lord, I can neither bear up nor keep going; my aches and pains grow grievously more, not less; and there are signs of their growing more, not less.

Lord, the violent ache that racks my head is just as though some lusty fellow chopped at it with a sharp-edged sword; lord, I can neither bear up nor keep going; my pains grow more, not less...”

So the Exalted One instructed him, roused him, gladdened him and comforted him with Dhamma-talk, then rose from his seat and departed.

Now not long after the Exalted One’s departure, the venerable Phagguna died; and at the time of his death his faculties were completely purified.

Then went the venerable Ānanda to the Exalted One, saluted him, and sat down at one side. So seated, he said:

“Lord, not long after the Exalted One left, the venerable Phagguna died; and at that time his faculties were completely purified.”

“But why, Ānanda, should not the faculties of the monk Phagguna have been completely purified? The monk’s mind, Ānanda, had not been wholly freed from the five lower fetters; but, when he heard that Dhamma teaching, his mind was wholly freed.

There are these six advantages, Ānanda, in hearing Dhamma in time, in testing its goodness in time. What six?

Consider, Ānanda, the monk whose mind is not wholly freed from the five lower fetters, but, when dying, is able to see the Tathāgata: the Tathāgata teaches him Dhamma, lovely in the beginning, lovely in the middle, lovely in the end, its goodness, its significance; and makes known the brahman-life (62), wholly fulfilled, perfectly pure. When he has heard that Dhamma teaching, his mind is wholly freed from the five lower fetters (63). This, Ānanda, is the first advantage in hearing Dhamma in time.

Or ...though not just able to see the Tathāgata, sees his disciple, who teaches him Dhamma ...and makes known the brahman-life ...Then is his mind wholly freed from the five lower fetters. This, Ānanda, is the second advantage...

Or ...though not able to see the Tathāgata or his disciple, continues to reflect in mind on Dhamma, as heard, as learnt, ponders on it, pores over it. Then is his mind wholly freed from the five lower fetters. This, Ānanda, is the third advantage in testing its goodness in time...”