The contacts of the senses, O son of Kunti! which produce cold and heat, pleasure and pain, are not permanent, they are for ever coming and going. Bear them, O descendant of Bharata! For, O chief of men! that sensible man whom they afflict not, (pain and pleasure being alike to him), he merits immortality. There is no existence for that which is unreal; there is no non-existence for that which is real. And the (correct) conclusion about both is perceived by those who perceive the truth.