Attachment (n.) should treat what it loves as a crystal goblet, so that when it breaks you remember what it was and are not troubled.
Attachment (n.) is caring for many things when you could care for one — and so being dragged down by body, estate, brother, friend and child.
Attachment (n.) enjoys people, places and habits as though for ever — and so ends wailing, more wretched than crows that change nests and cross seas without longing.
Attachment (n.) to a thing should be like attachment to a clay pot or a glass cup, so that when it breaks you remember what it was and are not disturbed.
Attachment (n.) should be held like a crystal goblet: love it knowing what kind of thing it is, so that when it breaks you are not unduly upset.
Attachment (n.) weighs you down: bind yourself to body, property, brother, friend and child, and each drags you under, when you could have tied yourself to one thing alone.
Attachment (n.) is the same weakness whatever its object: weeping for a gymnasium, a colonnade or a set of young friends is no better than weeping over a girl.
Attachment (n.) is disarmed by naming the thing: 'it is a jug I'm fond of' — so that when it breaks you are not upset; 'it is a mortal I am kissing' — so that when they die, you are not.