The Book of the Threes Chapter One Sāṭimattiya In the past you had faith, today you have none. What’s yours is yours alone— I’ve done nothing wrong. Faith is impermanent, fickle: or so I have seen. Passions wax and wane: why would a sage waste away on that account? The meal of a sage is cooked bit by bit in this family or that. I’ll walk for alms, for my legs are strong.