"‘Once when the Blessed One was living at Savathi in the Eastern Monastery, the Palace of Migara’s Mother, he had risen from retreat in the evening and was sitting warming his back in the rays of the setting sun,’ we learn. As Ananda was massaging his limbs, he noticed the changes that had overtaken the Buddha, and mentioned them. ‘So it is, Ananda, so it is,’ the Buddha replied. ‘Youth has to age, health has to sicken, life has to die. Now the colour of my skin is no more clear and bright; all my limbs are flaccid and wrinkled, my body is bent forward, and there seems a change in the sense faculties of my eyes, ears, nose, tongue and bodily sensation,’ so the Blessed One said. When the Sublime One had said this, the Master said further: ‘Shame on you, sordid Age! Maker of ugliness. Age has now trampled down The form that once had grace. To live a hundred years Is not to cheat Decay, That gives quarter to none And tramples down all things.’"