Tao Te Ching

Introduction

Tao Te Ching.

This is a modern-English reading assembled from historical, public-domain translations of the Tao Te Ching.

The Tao Te Ching is one of the central classics of Chinese thought. Taking shape in ancient China more than two thousand years ago, it is traditionally attributed to Laozi, the Old Master.

Its eighty-one short chapters explore the Tao, the Way: the mysterious source and course of all things. Through images of water, valleys, infants, and uncarved wood, it reflects on desire and contentment, strength and gentleness, and the art of acting without forcing.

It is a work of philosophy and poetic reflection on how to live, how to govern, and how to find one’s place within the natural order.

This is the Tao Te Ching.

Chapter 1

The Tao that can be followed is not the enduring, unchanging Tao. The name that can be named is not the enduring, unchanging name.

Without a name, it is the origin of heaven and earth. With a name, it is the mother of all things.

Always free from desire, we can explore its deep mystery. Always filled with desire, we see only its outer edge.

In these two aspects it is the same, though as it unfolds it receives different names. Together we call them the Mystery. Where the Mystery is deepest lies the gate of everything subtle and wonderful.

Chapter 2

When everyone in the world understands beauty as beauty, only then does ugliness appear. When everyone understands goodness as goodness, only then does badness appear.

Thus existence and nonexistence give rise to the idea of each other. Difficulty and ease each produce the idea of the other. Length and shortness give each other their form. The ideas of height and lowness arise through their contrast. Musical notes and tones become harmonious through their relation to one another. Before and behind give the idea of one following another.

Therefore the sage manages affairs without doing anything, and teaches without speaking.

All things spring up, and none refuses to appear. They grow, and no claim is made to own them. They go through their processes, and no reward is expected for the results. The work is accomplished, and no one rests upon it as an achievement.

The work is done, yet no one sees how. This is why its power does not come to an end.

Chapter 3

By neither honoring nor employing men of superior ability, one keeps the people from rivalry. By not prizing things that are hard to obtain, one keeps them from becoming thieves. By not displaying what will excite their desires, one keeps their minds from disorder.

Therefore, in governing, the sage empties their minds, fills their bellies, weakens their wills, and strengthens their bones.

He constantly tries to keep them without knowledge and without desire. Where there are people with knowledge, he tries to keep them from presuming to act upon it. When there is this abstention from action, good order prevails everywhere.

Chapter 4

The Tao is like an empty vessel. In using it, we must guard against all fullness. How deep and unfathomable it is, as though it were the honored ancestor of all things!

We should blunt our sharp points and untangle life's complications. We should soften our brightness and bring ourselves into harmony with the obscurity of others. How pure and still the Tao is, as though it would remain so forever!

I do not know whose son it is. It seems that it may have existed before God.

Chapter 5

Heaven and earth do not act from a wish to be benevolent. They treat all things as dogs made of grass are treated. The sages do not act from a wish to be benevolent. They treat the people as dogs made of grass are treated.

May not the space between heaven and earth be compared to a bellows?

It is emptied, yet it does not lose its power. Set in motion again, it sends out still more air. Much speech soon leads to exhaustion. Guard your inner being and keep it free.

Chapter 6

The spirit of the valley never dies, remaining always the same. We call it the female mystery. Its gate, from which heaven and earth first emerged, is called the root from which they grew. Its power continues, long and unbroken, used gently and without pain.

Chapter 7

Heaven endures long, and earth continues long. Heaven and earth can endure and continue because they do not live by themselves or for themselves. This is how they continue and endure.

Therefore the sage puts himself last, yet finds himself first. He treats his own person as something outside himself, yet his person is preserved. Is it not because he has no private, personal aims that those very aims are fulfilled?

Chapter 8

The highest excellence is like water. Water's excellence lies in benefiting all things and occupying, without resistance, the low place that everyone dislikes. In this, its way is close to the Tao.

The excellence of a home lies in a suitable place; that of the mind, in profound stillness; that of companionship, in being with the virtuous; that of government, in securing good order; that of handling affairs, in ability; and that of beginning any movement, in choosing the right time.

When someone of the highest excellence does not quarrel about his low position, no one finds fault with him.

Chapter 9

It is better to leave a vessel unfilled than to try to carry it when it is full. If you keep touching a sharpened point, it cannot keep its sharpness for long.

When gold and jade fill the hall, their owner cannot keep them safe. When wealth and honors lead to arrogance, this brings harm upon oneself. When the work is done and one's name is becoming distinguished, to withdraw into obscurity is the way of Heaven.

Chapter 10

When the intelligent soul and the animal soul are held together in one embrace, they can be kept from separating. By giving undivided attention to the vital breath and making it utterly supple, a person can become like a tender infant. By clearing away the most mysterious visions of his imagination, he can become free from flaws.

In loving the people and ruling the state, can he proceed without deliberate action? In opening and closing his gates of heaven, can he act like a female bird? While his intelligence reaches in every direction, can he appear to have no knowledge?

The Tao produces all things and nourishes them. It produces them without claiming them as its own. It does everything, yet does not boast. It presides over everything, yet does not control it. This is called the mysterious quality of the Tao.

Chapter 11

Thirty spokes meet in a single hub, but the wheel's use depends on the empty space for the axle. Clay is shaped into vessels, but their use depends on the hollow space within them. Doors and windows are cut into walls to make a room, but its use depends on the empty space inside. Thus what exists provides a form that can be put to use; what does not exist provides its actual usefulness.

Chapter 12

The five colors take sight from the eyes. The five musical notes can deafen the ears. The five flavors rob the mouth of taste. Chariot racing and hunting in the wilderness drive the mind mad. The pursuit of rare and strange objects turns people's conduct toward evil.

Therefore the sage seeks to satisfy the hunger of the belly rather than the insatiable longing of the eyes. He rejects the latter and chooses the former.

Chapter 13

Favor and disgrace seem equally to be feared. Honor and great calamity are to be regarded as personal conditions of the same kind.

What does this mean about favor and disgrace? Disgrace means a low position after enjoying favor. Gaining favor brings anxiety about losing it. Losing it brings fear of still greater calamity. This is why favor and disgrace seem equally to be feared.

And what does it mean to regard honor and great calamity alike as personal conditions? What exposes me to great calamity is having the body I call myself. If I had no body, what great calamity could come to me?

Therefore someone who would govern the kingdom, honoring it as he honors his own person, may be appointed to govern it. Someone who would govern it with the love he bears his own person may be entrusted with it.

Chapter 14

We look at it and do not see it, and name it the Uniform. We listen to it and do not hear it, and name it the Inaudible. We try to grasp it and cannot hold it, and name it the Subtle. With these three qualities, it cannot be described, so we blend them together and obtain the One.

Its upper part is not bright, and its lower part is not dark. Though ceaseless in action, it cannot be named, and it returns again to nothing. This is called the form of the formless, the likeness of the invisible. It is called the fleeting and indefinable.

We meet it and cannot see its front. We follow it and cannot see its back. To grasp the Tao of old and use it to guide the things of today, while knowing it as it was in the beginning, is called following the thread of the Tao.

Chapter 15

The skillful masters of the Tao in ancient times understood its mysteries with subtle and exquisite insight. They were also so deep that others could not understand them. Since they lay beyond people's understanding, I will try to describe how they appeared.

They seemed cautious, like someone wading through a stream in winter; hesitant, like someone afraid of everything around him; solemn, like a guest in awe of his host; vanishing, like melting ice; unassuming, like wood that has not been shaped; empty, like a valley; and clouded, like muddy water.

Who can gradually make muddy water clear by quieting it? Who can gradually bring what is still to life by stirring it?

Those who preserve this way of the Tao do not wish to be full of themselves. Because they are not full of themselves, they can afford to seem worn, without appearing new and complete.

Chapter 16

Bring emptiness to its fullest extent, and guard stillness with tireless strength. All things alike pass through their activities, and then we see them return to their original state. When plants have grown in abundance, we see each return to its root. This return to the root is called stillness. That stillness may be called a report that they have fulfilled their appointed end.

The report of that fulfillment is the constant, unchanging rule. To know that rule is to be intelligent. Not to know it leads to reckless movements and evil results. Knowing the constant rule brings great breadth and forbearance. Breadth and forbearance bring a shared feeling with all things. From this shared feeling comes a kingly character. The kingly person becomes like Heaven, and in that likeness possesses the Tao. Possessing the Tao, he endures long, free from every danger of decay until the end of his bodily life.

Chapter 17

In the earliest times, the people did not know that they had rulers. In the next age they loved and praised their rulers. In the next they feared them, and in the next they despised them. When the rulers' faith in the Tao was deficient, the people's lack of faith in them followed.

How hesitant those earliest rulers seemed! Their reserve showed the importance they gave to their words. Their work was done and their undertakings succeeded, while the people all said, 'We are as we are, of ourselves!'

Chapter 18

When people ceased to follow the Great Tao, the Way, benevolence and righteousness came into fashion. Wisdom and shrewdness then appeared, and great hypocrisy followed.

When harmony no longer prevailed among the six family relationships, sons devoted to their parents appeared. When states and clans fell into disorder, loyal ministers appeared.

Chapter 19

If we could renounce our sagely qualities and discard our wisdom, the people would benefit a hundredfold. If we could renounce benevolence and discard righteousness, the people would again become devoted to their parents and kind. If we could renounce our clever devices and discard our schemes for gain, there would be no thieves or robbers.

Those three methods of government judged the old ways lacking in refinement, and devised these names to conceal their own lack of worth. But simple views and plain, true conduct would avoid selfish aims and many desires.

Chapter 20

When we renounce learning, we have no troubles. Between a ready 'yes' and a flattering 'yes,' the difference seems small. But consider their consequences, good and bad. What could fill the gulf between them?

What everyone fears is indeed to be feared. Yet how wide and endless is the range of questions calling for discussion!

The multitude seem satisfied and pleased, as though enjoying a full banquet or standing on a tower in spring. I alone seem listless and still, my desires not yet showing any sign of themselves. I am like an infant who has not yet smiled. I seem dejected and forlorn, as though I had no home to return to. Everyone else has enough and more to spare. I alone seem to have lost everything. My mind is that of a foolish man. I am in a state of chaos.

Ordinary people seem bright and intelligent. I alone seem to be in darkness. They seem full of discernment. I alone am dull and confused. I seem to be carried about upon the sea, drifting with nowhere to rest. Everyone has a sphere of action. I alone seem dull and incapable, like an uncultivated man from the borderlands. I alone am different from others, yet I value the nursing mother, the Tao.

Chapter 21

The greatest forms of active power come from the Tao, their only source. Who can describe the Tao's nature? It escapes both sight and touch. Escaping sight and touch, it holds within it the forms of all things. Escaping touch and sight, it holds their likenesses. Deep, dark, and obscure, it holds the enduring essences of things. These essences contain the truth of what will be revealed when things are seen. It is so now, and was so in ancient times. Its name does not pass away. Thus things take form in their beautiful array and never know decay.

How do I know that this is so with all the beauties of existing things? Through this nature of the Tao.

Chapter 22

The incomplete becomes complete; the crooked, straight; the empty, full; the worn, new. Someone with few desires fulfills them. Someone with many desires goes astray.

Therefore the sage embraces the one thing, humility, and shows it to the whole world. He does not display himself, and so he shines. He does not assert himself, and so he is distinguished. He does not boast, and so his merit is acknowledged. He is not self-satisfied, and so he gains superiority. Because he is free from striving, no one in the world can strive against him.

The ancient saying, 'The incomplete becomes complete,' was not spoken in vain. All true completeness is contained within it.

Chapter 23

Abstaining from speech marks someone who follows the spontaneity of his nature. A violent wind does not last a whole morning. A sudden rain does not last a whole day. What causes these two things? Heaven and earth. If heaven and earth cannot make such bursts of activity last long, how much less can a person!

Therefore someone who pursues his affairs with the Tao is identified with the Tao. Someone who pursues his affairs with virtue is identified with virtue. Someone who pursues his affairs with loss is identified with loss.

When identified with the Tao, he gladly embraces the Tao. When identified with virtue, he gladly embraces virtue. When identified with loss, he gladly embraces loss. Someone whose faith is insufficient will not find faith.

Chapter 24

Someone standing on tiptoe does not stand firm. Someone stretching his legs does not walk easily. So someone who displays himself does not shine. Someone who asserts his own views is not distinguished. Someone who boasts does not have his merit acknowledged. Someone who is conceited is not granted superiority. From the standpoint of the Tao, these conditions are like leftover food or a tumor on the body, which everyone dislikes. Therefore those who follow the Tao neither adopt nor allow them.

Chapter 25

There was something undefined and complete that came into existence before heaven and earth. How still and formless it was, standing alone and undergoing no change, reaching everywhere without danger of exhaustion! It may be regarded as the mother of all things.

I do not know its name, and I call it the Tao, the Way or Course. Trying further to give it a name, I call it the Great.

Being great, it passes on in constant flow. Passing on, it becomes remote. Having become remote, it returns. Therefore the Tao is great. Heaven is great. Earth is great. The sage king is also great. There are four great things in the universe, and the sage king is one of them.

Human beings take their law from earth. Earth takes its law from Heaven. Heaven takes its law from the Tao. The law of the Tao is to be what it is.

Chapter 26

Gravity is the root of lightness. Stillness rules movement.

Therefore a wise prince, though marching all day, does not go far from his baggage wagons. Though he may have splendid sights to look at, he quietly remains in his proper place, indifferent to them. How could the lord of ten thousand chariots behave lightly before the kingdom? If he acts lightly, he loses his root of gravity. If he gives himself to active movement, he will lose his throne.

Chapter 27

A skillful traveler leaves no traces of wheels or footsteps. A skillful speaker says nothing that can be faulted or blamed. A skillful reckoner uses no counting tallies. A skillful closer needs no bolts or bars, yet what he has closed cannot be opened. A skillful binder uses no strings or knots, yet what he has bound cannot be undone. In the same way, the sage is always skillful at saving people, and so he casts no one aside. He is always skillful at saving things, and so he casts nothing aside. This is called hiding the light of his method.

Therefore the skillful man is a master for the unskillful man to look up to. The unskillful man helps establish the reputation of the skillful man. If the one did not honor his master, and the other did not delight in his helper, an observer, though intelligent, might be greatly mistaken about them. This is called the deepest degree of mystery.

Chapter 28

He who knows his masculine strength, yet maintains his feminine weakness, is like a single channel into which many drains flow. All come to him, yes, all beneath the sky. In this way he retains constant virtue and becomes a simple child again, free from every stain.

He who knows how white attracts, yet always stays within the shade of black, displays a model of humility, displays it before all beneath the sky. Clothed in unchanging virtue, he has made an endless return to humanity's first state.

He who knows how glory shines, yet loves disgrace and never turns pale at it: look at him in a spacious valley, to which people come from all beneath the sky. His unchanging virtue reaches its full measure, and we recognize in him the simple human infant.

Raw material, when divided and distributed, forms vessels. When the sage is employed, he becomes the head of all the officers of government. In his greatest regulations, he uses no violent measures.

Chapter 29

If anyone wishes to gain the kingdom for himself and achieve this through his own actions, I see that he will not succeed. The kingdom is a spirit-like thing and cannot be gained by active doing. He who tries to win it in this way destroys it; he who tries to hold it in his grasp loses it.

The course and nature of things is such that what was in front is now behind, and what was warm we soon find freezing. Strength often falls prey to weakness. The store lies in ruins, mocking our labor.

Therefore the sage puts aside excessive effort, extravagance, and easy indulgence.

Chapter 30

He who would help a ruler of men in harmony with the Tao will not establish his mastery in the kingdom by force of arms. Such a course is certain to receive its fitting return.

Wherever an army is stationed, briars and thorns spring up. Great armies are sure to be followed by bad years.

A skillful commander strikes a decisive blow and stops. He does not dare to continue his operations to establish and complete his mastery. He strikes the blow, but guards against becoming vain, boastful, or arrogant because of it. He strikes from necessity; he strikes, but not from a wish for mastery.

When things reach their full strength and maturity, they become old. This may be said to be out of harmony with the Tao, and whatever is out of harmony with it soon comes to an end.

Chapter 31

Weapons, however beautiful, are instruments of evil omen, hateful, one might say, to all creatures. Therefore those who possess the Tao do not like to use them.

The superior man ordinarily regards the left-hand place as most honorable, but in wartime, the right-hand place. Those sharp weapons are instruments of evil omen, and are not the instruments of the superior man. He uses them only when necessity compels him. He values calm and rest; victory by force of arms is undesirable to him. To regard such victory as desirable would be to delight in slaughtering men, and he who delights in slaughtering men cannot have his way in the kingdom.

At festivities, the left-hand place is prized; in mourning, the right-hand place. The army's second in command stands on the left, and the commanding general on the right. His place, in other words, is assigned according to the rites of mourning. He who has killed multitudes of men should weep for them with the bitterest grief, and the victor in battle rightly takes his place according to those rites.

Chapter 32

Considered as unchanging, the Tao has no name.

Though it may be small in its original simplicity, the whole world does not dare treat someone who embodies it as a minister. If a feudal prince or the king could guard and hold it, everyone would submit to him of their own accord.

Under its guidance, Heaven and Earth unite and send down the sweet dew. Without human directions, it reaches equally everywhere, as though of its own accord.

As soon as it begins to act, it has a name. Once it has that name, men can know how to rest in it. When they know how to rest in it, they can be free from every risk of failure and error.

The Tao's relation to the whole world is like the relation of the great rivers and seas to the streams from the valleys.

Chapter 33

He who knows other men is discerning; he who knows himself is intelligent. He who overcomes others is strong; he who overcomes himself is mighty. He who is satisfied with his lot is rich; he who continues acting with energy has a firm will.

He who does not fail to meet the demands of his position endures for a long time. He who dies and yet does not perish has longevity.

Chapter 34

The Great Tao pervades everything! It can be found on the left hand and on the right.

All things depend on it for their coming into being, which it grants them, and not one refuses to obey it. When its work is done, it does not claim the credit for doing it. It clothes all things as with a garment and makes no claim to be their lord; it may be named in the smallest things. All things return to their root and disappear, without knowing that it presides over their doing so; it may be named in the greatest things.

In the same way, the sage is able to accomplish his great achievements. He can accomplish them because he does not make himself great.

Chapter 35

The whole world comes to him who holds in his hands the Great Image of the invisible Tao. Men come to him and receive no harm, but find rest, peace, and a feeling of ease.

Music and delicacies will make a passing guest stop for a time. But though the Tao, as it comes from the mouth, seems bland and without flavor, though it seems unworthy of being looked at or listened to, its use is inexhaustible.

Chapter 36

When a man is about to breathe in, he is sure to breathe out beforehand. When he is going to weaken another, he first strengthens him. When he is going to overthrow another, he first raises him up. When he is going to strip another of his possessions, he first gives him gifts. This is called hiding the light of his procedure.

The soft overcomes the hard, and the weak overcomes the strong.

Fish should not be taken from the deep. Instruments that bring a state advantage should not be shown to the people.

Chapter 37

In its regular course, the Tao does nothing for the sake of doing it, and so there is nothing it does not do.

If princes and kings could maintain it, all things would be transformed by them of their own accord.

While being transformed, they would still be eager to stir. But I would restrain them through the simplicity of what cannot be expressed.

Nameless simplicity is free from every outward aim. With no desire, at rest and still, all things go right as though by their own will.

Chapter 38

Those who possessed the Tao's virtue in the highest degree did not seek to display it, and therefore possessed it in the fullest measure. Those who possessed that virtue in a lower degree sought not to lose it, and therefore did not possess it in the fullest measure.

Those who possessed that virtue in the highest degree proceeded without deliberate action and had no need to do anything. Those who possessed it in a lower degree were always acting and needed to do so.

Those who possessed the greatest benevolence were always seeking to put it into practice, and had no need to do so. Those who possessed the greatest righteousness were always seeking to put it into practice, and needed to do so.

Those who possessed the highest sense of propriety were always seeking to display it. When men did not respond, they bared an arm and marched up to them.

Thus, when the Tao was lost, its virtue appeared. When its virtue was lost, benevolence appeared. When benevolence was lost, righteousness appeared. When righteousness was lost, the rules of propriety appeared.

Now propriety is a thinned-out form of loyal-heartedness and good faith, and is also the beginning of disorder. Quick understanding is only a flower of the Tao, and is the beginning of stupidity.

Therefore the great man abides by what is solid and avoids what is flimsy. He dwells with the fruit, not with the flower. In this way he puts aside the one and chooses the other.

Chapter 39

The things that have possessed the One, the Tao, since ancient times are these.

Heaven is made bright and pure by it. Earth is made firm and sure by it. Spirits receive their powers from it. Valleys are kept full throughout their emptiness. All creatures live through it. Princes and kings receive from it the model they give to everyone.

All these are the results of the One, the Tao.

If Heaven were not so pure, it would soon split apart. If Earth were not so sure, it would break and bend. Without these powers, the spirits would soon fail. If not so filled, each valley would be parched by drought. Without that life, creatures would pass away. Without that moral influence, princes and kings would all decay, however grand and high they stood.

Thus dignity finds its firm root in its former low condition, and what is lofty finds its stability in the lowliness from which it rises. Therefore princes and kings call themselves orphans, widowers, and nobodies. Is this not an acknowledgment that they see the foundation of their dignity in regarding themselves as lowly? The separate parts of a carriage are not a carriage. They do not wish to look elegant like jade, but prefer to look rough like an ordinary stone.

Chapter 40

The Tao moves by opposites, and weakness marks the course of its mighty deeds.

All things under heaven arose from the Tao as existing and named. That existence arose from the Tao as nonexistent and unnamed.

Chapter 41

Scholars of the highest class, when they hear about the Tao, earnestly put it into practice. Scholars of the middle class, when they hear about it, seem now to keep it and now to lose it. Scholars of the lowest class, when they hear about it, laugh loudly at it. If it were not laughed at in this way, it would not be fit to be the Tao.

Therefore those who compose sayings have expressed themselves in this way.

Seen at its brightest, the Tao seems to lack light. He who advances in it seems to draw back. Its level way looks like a rough track. Its highest virtue rises from the valley. Its greatest beauty seems to offend the eye. He who has the most is the one whose lot provides the least. Its firmest virtue seems poor and low. Its solid truth seems to change. Its largest square still shows no corner. As a great vessel, it is the slowest to be made. Its sound is loud, yet it never speaks a word. A great likeness, it is the shadow of a shade.

The Tao is hidden and has no name, but it is the Tao that is skillful at giving all things what they need and making them complete.

Chapter 42

The Tao produced One. One produced Two. Two produced Three. Three produced All things. All things are sustained by Yin, the negative principle, and encompassed by Yang, the positive principle, while immaterial qi, the breath of life, brings them into harmony.

People dislike being orphans, widowers, or nobodies. Yet these are the titles that kings and princes choose for themselves. Thus some things are increased by being diminished, and others are diminished by being increased.

What other men teach in this way, I also teach. The violent and strong do not die a natural death. I will make this the basis of my teaching.

Chapter 43

The softest thing in the world strikes against and overcomes the hardest. What has no substantial existence enters where there is no crevice. From this I know the benefit of proceeding without deliberate action.

Few in the world attain the teaching without words and the benefit arising from non-action.

Chapter 44

Which do you hold dearer, fame or life? Which would you cling to, life or wealth? Keep life and lose those other things, or keep them and lose your life: which brings sorrow and pain nearer?

From this we can see that he who clings to fame rejects what is greater, and he who loves great stores of wealth gives up a richer state.

He who is content need fear no shame. He who knows when to stop incurs no blame. Free from danger, he will live long.

Chapter 45

He who thinks his great achievements poor will find that his vigor endures for a long time. The greatest fullness, regarded as a void, has a tide that exhaustion can never stop. Continue to regard what is straight as crooked, your greatest art as foolish, and your eloquence as a stammering scream.

Constant action overcomes cold; being still overcomes heat. Purity and stillness give the correct law to all under heaven.

Chapter 46

When the Tao prevails in the world, swift horses are sent back to pull the dung carts. When the Tao is disregarded in the world, warhorses breed in the borderlands.

There is no guilt greater than approving ambition, no calamity greater than being discontented with one's lot, and no fault greater than the desire to acquire. Therefore the sufficiency of contentment is an enduring and unchanging sufficiency.

Chapter 47

Without going outside his door, a man understands all that takes place under the sky. Without looking out his window, he sees the Tao of Heaven. The farther he goes out from himself, the less he knows.

Therefore the sages gained their knowledge without traveling, gave things their proper names without seeing them, and achieved their ends without any intention of doing so.

Chapter 48

He who devotes himself to learning seeks to increase his knowledge day by day. He who devotes himself to the Tao seeks to reduce what he does day by day.

He reduces it, then reduces it again, until he reaches the point of proceeding without deliberate action. Having reached this state of non-action, there is nothing he does not do.

He who makes all under heaven his own does so without troubling himself to achieve that end. If a man takes trouble toward that end, he is not capable of making all under heaven his own.

Chapter 49

The sage has no fixed mind of his own; he makes the mind of the people his mind.

To those who are good to me, I am good. To those who are not good to me, I am also good, and so all become good. To those who are sincere with me, I am sincere. To those who are not sincere with me, I am also sincere, and so all become sincere.

In the world, the sage appears indecisive and keeps his mind indifferent to all. All the people direct their eyes and ears toward him, and he treats them all as his children.

Chapter 50

People come forth and live; they enter again and die.

Of every ten people, three minister to their own life, and three minister to death.

There are also three in every ten whose aim is to live, but whose movements lead toward the place of death. Why is this? Because they strive excessively to perpetuate life.

But I have heard that he who skillfully manages the life entrusted to him for a time travels over land without having to avoid rhinoceros or tiger, and comes among soldiers without needing to fear arms and weapons. The rhinoceros finds no place in him to thrust its horn, the tiger no place to fix its claws, and the weapon no place to admit its point. Why is this? Because there is no place of death in him.

Chapter 51

All things are produced by the Tao and nourished by its outflowing action. They receive their forms according to the nature of each and are completed according to the circumstances of their condition. Therefore all things, without exception, honor the Tao and exalt its outflowing action.

This honoring of the Tao and exalting of its action does not result from any decree, but is always a spontaneous tribute.

Thus the Tao produces all things, nourishes them, brings them to full growth, nurses them, completes them, matures them, maintains them, and spreads over them.

It produces them and makes no claim to possess them. It carries them through their processes and does not boast of its ability in doing so. It brings them to maturity and exercises no control over them. This is called its mysterious operation.

Chapter 52

The Tao, which gave origin to everything beneath the sky, should be regarded as the mother of them all.

When the mother is found, we know what her children should be. When a man knows that he is his mother's child and goes on to guard the qualities of the mother that belong to him, he will remain free from every danger until the end of his life.

Let him keep his mouth closed and shut the gates of his senses, and he will be free from laborious effort all his life. Let him keep his mouth open and meddle with affairs, and there will be no safety for him all his life.

Perceiving what is small is the secret of clear sight. Guarding what is soft and tender is the secret of strength.

He who uses the Tao's light and returns home to its illumination does not surrender himself to ruin. This is called practicing the eternal.

Chapter 53

If I were suddenly to become known and be put in a position to govern according to the Great Tao, what I would fear most would be a boastful display.

The great Tao, or way, is very level and easy, but people love the side paths.

Their courtyards and buildings will be well kept, but their fields will be poorly cultivated and their granaries very empty. They will wear elegant, decorated robes, carry a sharp sword at their belt, indulge themselves in food and drink, and have an overabundance of property and wealth. Such princes may be called robbers and boasters. Surely this is contrary to the Tao!

Chapter 54

What the Tao's skillful planter plants can never be uprooted. What his skillful arms enfold can never be taken from him. Sons in an ever-lengthening line will bring sacrifices to his shrine.

He who cultivates the Tao in himself has genuine virtue. He who cultivates it in his household has overflowing virtue. He who cultivates it in his neighborhood has lasting virtue. He who cultivates it in his state has abundant virtue. He who cultivates it throughout the world has universal virtue.

In this way, by observing different cases, the effect will be seen in the person, the family, the neighborhood, the state, and the kingdom.

How do I know that this effect is certain to hold in this way for all beneath the sky? By this method of observation.

Chapter 55

The man who has an abundance of the Tao's virtue within him is like an infant. Poisonous insects will not sting him; fierce beasts will not seize him; birds of prey will not strike him.

The infant's bones are weak and its sinews soft, yet its grasp is firm. It does not yet know the union of male and female, yet its penis may become erect, showing the perfection of its physical essence. It will cry all day without its throat becoming hoarse, showing the harmony of its constitution.

To the man who knows this harmony, the secret of the unchanging Tao is revealed, and in this knowledge wisdom finds its throne. All arts for increasing life turn to evil. When the mind makes the vital breath burn, that strength is false, and we should mourn over it.

When things have become strong, they then become old. This may be called contrary to the Tao. Whatever is contrary to the Tao soon comes to an end.

Chapter 56

The man who knows the Tao does not care to speak about it; the man who is always ready to speak about it does not know it.

The man who knows it will keep his mouth shut and shut the gates of his senses. He will blunt his sharp points and unravel the complications of things; he will temper his brightness and bring himself into harmony with the obscurity of others. This is called the Mysterious Agreement.

Such a man cannot be treated with either familiarity or distance. He is beyond all considerations of profit or harm, noble rank or low status. He is the noblest man under heaven.

Chapter 57

A state may be ruled through corrective measures; weapons of war may be used with crafty skill. But the kingdom is made one's own only through freedom from action and purpose.

How do I know this is so? From these facts: in the kingdom, multiplying prohibitions increases the people's poverty. The more tools the people have for increasing their profit, the greater the disorder in the state and clan. The more skills of crafty ingenuity men possess, the more strange contrivances appear. The more legislation is put on display, the more thieves and robbers there are.

Therefore a sage has said, 'I will do nothing deliberately, and the people will be transformed of their own accord. I will be fond of keeping still, and the people will become correct of themselves. I will take no trouble about it, and the people will become rich of themselves. I will show no ambition, and the people will attain primitive simplicity of themselves.'

Chapter 58

The government that seems most unwise often does the most good for the people. A meddling government that interferes in everything works only harm and brings disappointment.

Misery! Happiness can be found beside it. Happiness! Misery lurks beneath it. Who knows what either will come to in the end?

Should we then dispense with correction? The method of correction will, with a turn, become distortion, and the good in it will, with a turn, become evil. The people's delusion on this point has indeed lasted a long time.

Therefore the sage is like a square whose angles cut no one, like a corner whose sharpness injures no one. He is straightforward but allows himself no license; he is bright but does not dazzle.

Chapter 59

To regulate what is human within us and give proper service to what is heavenly, nothing is like moderation.

Only through this moderation can an early return to man's normal state be brought about. That early return is what I call the repeated accumulation of the Tao's virtue. With that repeated accumulation of virtue comes the overcoming of every obstacle to this return. We do not know what the limit of this overcoming will be; when a man does not know what that limit will be, he may be the ruler of a state.

The man who possesses the mother of the state may endure for a long time. His case is like that of a plant whose roots, we say, are deep and whose flower stalks are firm. This is the way to ensure that its enduring life will long be seen.

Chapter 60

Governing a great state is like cooking small fish.

Let the kingdom be governed according to the Tao, and the spirits of the departed will not show their spiritual power. It is not that those spirits do not have this power, but that it will not be used to harm men. It is not that it could not harm men, but the ruling sage does not harm them either.

When these two do not harm each other, their good influences come together in the virtue of the Tao.

Chapter 61

What makes a great state is its being like a low-lying stream that flows downward. It becomes the center toward which all the small states under heaven tend.

To illustrate this through the case of all females: the female always overcomes the male through her stillness. Stillness may be considered a form of self-abasement.

Thus a great state gains small states for itself by lowering itself to them; small states win a great state over to them by lowering themselves before it. In the first case, lowering oneself gains adherents; in the second, it obtains favor.

The great state wishes only to unite men and nourish them; a small state wishes only to be received by the other and serve it. Each gets what it desires, but the great state must learn to lower itself.

Chapter 62

The Tao has the most honored place among all things. No treasure bestows such rich grace on good men. It protects bad men and wipes away their evil.

Its admirable words can purchase honor; its admirable deeds can raise the man who performs them above others. Even men who are not good are not abandoned by it.

Therefore, when the sovereign takes his place as the Son of Heaven and has appointed his three ducal ministers, a prince might send a round emblem of rank large enough to fill both hands, ahead of a team of horses in the courtyard. Yet such an offering would not equal a lesson in this Tao that one might present on one's knees.

Why did the ancients prize this Tao so much? Was it not because it could be obtained by seeking it, and the guilty could escape the stain of their guilt through it? This is why all under heaven consider it the most valuable thing.

Chapter 63

It is the way of the Tao to act without thinking of acting; to conduct affairs without feeling burdened by them; to taste without discerning any flavor; to consider what is small as great, and a few as many; and to repay injury with kindness.

The master of the Tao anticipates difficult things while they are easy and does things that would become great while they are small. All difficult things in the world are sure to arise from an earlier state in which they were easy, and all great things from one in which they were small. Therefore the sage, while he never does what is great, is able for that very reason to accomplish the greatest things.

The man who promises lightly is sure to keep little faith; the man who continually thinks things easy is sure to find them difficult. Therefore the sage sees difficulty even in what seems easy, and so never has any difficulties.

Chapter 64

What is at rest is easy to hold. Before a thing has given any sign of its presence, it is easy to take measures against it. What is brittle is easy to break; what is very small is easy to scatter. Action should be taken before a thing has appeared; order should be secured before disorder has begun.

The tree that fills one's arms grew from the tiniest sprout. The tower of nine stories rose from a small heap of earth. The journey of a thousand li began with a single step.

The man who acts with an ulterior purpose does harm; the man who takes hold of something with such a purpose loses his hold. The sage does not act in this way, and so does no harm; he does not take hold in this way, and so does not lose his hold. But people conducting their affairs constantly ruin them when they are on the verge of success. If they were as careful at the end as they should be at the beginning, they would not ruin them in this way.

Therefore the sage desires what other men do not desire and does not prize things that are difficult to obtain. He learns what other men do not learn and turns back to what the multitude have passed by. In this way he helps the natural development of all things and does not dare to act with an ulterior purpose of his own.

Chapter 65

The ancients who showed their skill in practicing the Tao did so not to enlighten the people, but rather to make them simple and ignorant.

The difficulty of governing the people comes from their having much knowledge. The man who tries to govern a state through his wisdom is a scourge to it; the man who does not try to do so is a blessing.

The man who knows these two things finds his model and rule in them as well. The ability to know this model and rule constitutes what we call the mysterious virtue of a governor. Deep and far-reaching is this mysterious virtue. It shows its possessor to be the opposite of others, yet leads them to conform closely to him.

Chapter 66

Rivers and seas can receive the homage and tribute of all the valley streams because of their skill in being lower than the streams. In this way they are kings of them all. So the sage ruler, wishing to be above men, places himself below them in his words; wishing to be before them, he places himself behind them.

In this way, although he has his place above them, men do not feel his weight; although he has his place before them, they do not feel it as an injury.

Therefore everyone in the world delights to exalt him and does not grow weary of him. Because he does not strive, no one finds it possible to strive with him.

Chapter 67

All the world says that although my Tao is great, it still seems inferior to other teachings. Yet it is precisely its greatness that makes it seem inferior. If it were like any other teaching, its smallness would have been known long ago!

But I have three precious things that I prize and hold fast. The first is compassion; the second is frugality; the third is reluctance to take precedence over others.

With this compassion I can be bold; with this frugality I can be generous; through my reluctance to take precedence over others, I can become a vessel of the highest honor. Nowadays they abandon compassion and care only for boldness; abandon frugality and care only for generosity; abandon the last place and seek only the first. The end of all this is death.

The compassionate will be victorious in attack and firm in defense. When Heaven is about to save someone, it will protect him with compassion.

Chapter 68

The man who excels as a warrior is not warlike. The man who excels as a fighter does not give way to anger. The man who excels at conquering the enemy does not strive. The man who excels at employing men is humble.

This is called the virtue of not striving. This is called making use of men's ability. This is called being in accord with Heaven, the highest since ancient times.

Chapter 69

A master of the art of war has said, 'I do not dare to be the host who begins the war; I prefer to be the guest who acts on the defensive. I do not dare to advance an inch; I prefer to retreat a foot.' This is called drawing up the ranks where there are no ranks; baring the arms for battle where there are no arms to bare; grasping the weapon where there is no weapon to grasp; advancing against the enemy where there is no enemy.

There is no calamity greater than engaging lightly in war. To do so is to come close to losing the compassion that is so precious. Thus, when opposing weapons are actually crossed, the man who deplores the situation conquers.

Chapter 70

My words are very easy to understand and very easy to practice; but there is no one in the world who is able to understand them and able to practice them.

My words have an originating and all-encompassing principle, and the things I enforce have an authoritative law. It is because men do not know these that they do not know me.

Those who know me are few, and for that reason I am all the more to be prized. Thus the sage wears a poor garment of haircloth while carrying his jade seal inside his clothing, against his chest.

Chapter 71

To know, yet think we do not know, is the highest attainment. Not to know, yet think we do know, is a disease.

Simply by being pained at the thought of having this disease, we are protected from it. The sage does not have this disease. He knows the pain that would be inseparable from it, and therefore he does not have it.

Chapter 72

When the people do not fear what they ought to fear, what they greatly dread will come upon them.

Do not narrow their lives. Do not make their lot wearisome.

When it is not made wearisome, it will not be wearisome.

Therefore the sage knows himself but does not display himself. He holds himself dear but does not honor himself. Thus he discards the latter and chooses the former.

Chapter 73

The man whose boldness shows itself in daring to do wrong, in defiance of the laws, is put to death; the man whose boldness shows itself in not daring to do so lives on. Of these two cases, one seems advantageous and the other harmful. But:

When Heaven's anger strikes a man, who can truly see the cause?

For this reason, the sage finds it difficult to decide what to do in the former case.

The way of Heaven is not to strive, yet it skillfully overcomes; not to speak, yet it is skillful in obtaining a reply. It does not call, yet men come to it of themselves. It shows itself quietly, yet its plans are skillful and effective. The meshes of Heaven's net are large and far apart, yet they let nothing escape.

Chapter 74

The people do not fear death; what purpose is served by trying to frighten them with death? If the people were always in awe of death, and I could always seize those who do wrong and put them to death, who would dare to do wrong?

There is always One who presides over the infliction of death. A man who would inflict death in place of the One who presides over it may be described as chopping wood in place of a master carpenter. A man who takes on the chopping in the master carpenter's place seldom fails to cut his own hands!

Chapter 75

The people suffer famine because their superiors consume so much in taxes. This is why they suffer famine.

The people are difficult to govern because their superiors intervene excessively in governing them. This is why they are difficult to govern.

The people make light of dying because their labors to find the means to live are so great. This is what makes them make light of dying. Thus it is better to leave the subject of living entirely out of consideration than to place a high value on it.

Chapter 76

A man while alive is tender and delicate; when he dies, he is stiff and rigid. The ten thousand things, grass and trees alike, are tender and supple while they live; when they die, they are rigid and dry.

Thus firmness and strength accompany death; softness and weakness accompany life.

Therefore the man who relies on the strength of his forces does not conquer; and a strong tree will fill one's outstretched arms, thereby inviting the woodcutter.

Therefore the place of what is firm and strong is below, and the place of what is soft and weak is above.

Chapter 77

Can we not compare the Tao of Heaven to the bending of a bow? The part of the bow that was high is brought low, and what was low is raised. In this way Heaven reduces where there is excess and adds where there is deficiency.

It is the Way of Heaven to reduce excess and add to deficiency. The way of man is different. He takes away from those who do not have enough to add to his own excess.

Who can take his own excess and use it to serve all under heaven? Only the man who possesses the Tao!

Therefore the ruling sage acts without claiming the results as his own. He achieves merit and does not rest arrogantly on it; he does not wish to display his superiority.

Chapter 78

There is nothing in the world softer and weaker than water. Yet for attacking what is firm and strong, nothing can surpass it, for nothing that could replace it is as effective.

Everyone in the world knows that the soft overcomes the hard, and the weak the strong, but no one is able to put this into practice.

Therefore a sage has said, 'The man who takes upon himself the disgrace of his state is therefore hailed as lord of its altars. To the man who bears men's terrible woes, they all give the name of king.'

Words that are strictly true seem paradoxical.

Chapter 79

When a great hatred is reconciled, some hatred naturally remains. How can this be made good?

Therefore the sage keeps the left-hand portion of the record of the agreement, but does not demand fulfillment from others. Those who have virtue attend to their obligations; those who have no virtue attend to their claims.

In the Way of Heaven there is no partiality in love; it is always on the side of the good man.

Chapter 80

In a little state with a small population, I would arrange things so that even if there were individuals with the abilities of ten or a hundred men, those individuals would not be put to use. I would have the people regard death as something grievous, yet not move elsewhere to avoid it.

Though they had boats and carriages, they should have no occasion to ride in them; though they had leather armor and sharp weapons, they should have no occasion to put on the armor or use the weapons.

I would make the people return to using knotted cords instead of written characters.

They should find their coarse food sweet, their plain clothes beautiful, their poor dwellings places of rest, and their common, simple ways sources of enjoyment.

There should be a neighboring state within sight, and the cries of its fowl and dogs should be heard all the way from there to us. Yet I would have the people reach old age, even death, without any dealings with it.

Chapter 81

Sincere words are not elegant; elegant words are not sincere. Those who are skilled in the Tao do not dispute about it; the disputatious are not skilled in it. Those who know the Tao are not extensively learned; the extensively learned do not know it.

The sage does not accumulate things for himself. The more he spends for others, the more he has of his own; the more he gives to others, the more he has himself.

Despite all the sharpness of the Way of Heaven, it does no injury; despite all the activity in the way of the sage, he does not strive.