prison-gates leap over the high dungeon-walls, and rise joyfully to the enjoyment of Happiness in the Buddha's land. If it were not for them, we might forget the Buddha as many a man forgets his parents when he has nothing to remind him of them. We should be like the turbulent, quarrelsome, vagrant-knights in the prison of Echizen: we should forget the Tathāgata, and remain hopelessly involved in the meshes of Suffering.
But some will say, "We have no images, yet we never forget the Tathāgata: our hearts can never forget him." Such men are exceptions: we ordinary beings, who are always falling into habits of forgetfulness, cannot possibly afford to do without the help of images and symbols. For they are, as I have already said, the flying machines which transport our hearts to the peaceful enjoyment of the Paradise of the Pure Land.
11. Images of gold, clay, or wood, and painted pictures,—we reverence them all alike as being all equally precious. We stand on the top of a
