Some of the ugliest people are very, very attractive. George
Bernard Shaw. An ugly man – and all the women chased after him. One lady, of course, approached him and said "George, you know, I am beautiful and you are so wise and so intelligent. If we marry and have a child, what a formidable combination the child will be. He'll have all my attractiveness and all your intellect and wisdom!" He said "Madam, supposing instead he has my beauty and your wisdom!"
Mahatma Gandhi, a man, you see, who overthrew the entire
might of the British Empire without raising a gun – he, one single man, more mighty than all the armies of the British Empire – with one white loincloth around his body. And look him close, look at his features – very ugly! But there was a shine on his face, an attractiveness. So, again, this body that is beautiful – what makes it beautiful? What gives it beauty? All right?
"I love this body!" But, you know, again I ask the same question: Which one of your bodies do you love? Because your body has changed so many times since you were born. And every five years, or every ten, every twelve years, or something like that, all the cells in your body have changed. You don't have the same cells with which you were born. And you keep saying, "I" – the same body, the same "me." "I am the same one you saw last year." Not true. Not true! If body alone is the "self," I never saw you before – because it is not the same body! All of the cells of your body have changed in the last five years. If the body alone is your "self," then I have no brother, and no sister, and I have no mother, and no father because they are not the same persons. All of the cells of the body have changed.
Where does the "person" hide, if not in the body, then? Who is the "person"? Do you understand my question? Which one of "those" is it that I love? If the person to whom you said four years ago "I love you" – and everything in that person has been replaced now, all the cells of his body have been changed – then do I love that one or do I love this one? You will accuse me of falling in love with somebody else. "Where does the identity reside?" is my question.