«The son is called by the wise 'self, born of self'; therefore let a man regard his wife, the mother of his son, as he would his own mother. Seeing the son born in his wife as his own face in a mirror, a father rejoices as one who, having done good deeds, has reached heaven. People consumed by mental sorrows and afflictions, tormented, take joy in their wives, as those scorched by heat rejoice in water. Even a wise man in great anger should not speak an unkind word to women, seeing that pleasure, joy, and dharma depend upon them. Wives are the eternal, sacred field of one's own birth; without a wife, what power would even the sages have to beget offspring? When a son, covered in the dust of the road, runs up and embraces his father's limbs — what is there greater than that? And you — why do you scorn this son of yours, who has come of his own accord, full of love, looking at you sidelong? Even ants carry their own eggs without breaking them; how is it that you, a knower of dharma, will not nurture your own child? Neither the touch of garments, nor of women, nor of water is as sweet as the touch of an embraced child, a son. The brahmin is the best of two-legged beings, the cow the finest of four-legged beings, the guru the greatest among the venerable, the son the best of all that can be touched. Let this son, lovely to behold, embrace and touch you; there is no touch in the world sweeter than the touch of a son.»