Every effort of the outer self to make itself good stays soiled because it is done from the surface man, the ego that cannot cleanse itself with its own hands. The filthy rags are the garments of merely outward virtue, cloth worn on the body and stained by the very self that weaves it. The fading leaf is the flesh, green for a season and then dry, showing that anything built on the mortal frame withers on its stem. The wind is the restless breath of the lower mind, and its gusts of wrongdoing scatter a person like a leaf torn loose, because he has nothing rooted deeper than his own moods.
Filthy rags: the garments of outward virtue, cloth stained by the surface self that wears it
Leaf: the flesh, alive for a season and then withering on the stem
Wind: the restless breath of the lower mind that carries a person off