The river of life is dreadful. Personal beauty or form forms is banks. The mind is the speed of its current. Touch forms its island. Taste forms its waters. That particular part of it which leads towards heaven is beset with great difficulties. Body is the boat by which one must cross that river. Forgiveness is the oar by which it is to be moved. Truth is the ballast that keeps that boat steady. The practice of virtue is the rope that is to be put to the mast for dragging that boat along difficult waters. Charity or gift forms the wind that moves the sails of that boat. Bifted with swift speed, it is with that boat that one must cross the river of life.