45
“Seyyathāpi, bhikkhave, udakarahado āvilo luḷito kalalībhūto tattha cakkhumā puriso tīre ṭhito na passeyya sippisambukampi sakkharakaṭhalampi macchagumbampi carantampi tiṭṭhantampi. Taṁ kissa hetu? Āvilattā, bhikkhave, udakassa. Evamevaṁ kho, bhikkhave, so vata bhikkhu āvilena cittena attatthaṁ vā ñassati paratthaṁ vā ñassati ubhayatthaṁ vā ñassati uttariṁ vā manussadhammā alamariyañāṇadassanavisesaṁ sacchikarissatīti netaṁ ṭhānaṁ vijjati. Taṁ kissa hetu? Āvilattā, bhikkhave, cittassā”ti.
45
“Suppose, mendicants, there was a lake that was cloudy, murky, and muddy. A person with clear eyes standing on the bank would not see the clams and mussels, pebbles and gravel, and schools of fish swimming about or staying still. Why is that? Because the water is clouded. In the same way, that a mendicant whose mind is clouded would know what’s for their own good, the good of another, or the good of both; or that they would realize any superhuman distinction in knowledge and vision worthy of the noble ones: this is quite impossible. Why is that? Because their mind is clouded.”