Date of compilation: Warring States period [509–505 BCE or 502 BCE]
Because Hugo and various Python datetime libraries do not support date conversions for the pre-Christian era, the dates in the Tao Te Ching cannot be converted into timestamps and thus cannot be parsed by Hugo. For this reason, the date is set to January 1, 1 CE here.
(1) The Dao that can be spoken of is not the eternal Dao; the name that can be named is not the eternal name. “No Name” gives rise to the origin of heaven and earth; “Named” gives birth to the mother of all things. Therefore, by remaining constantly without desire, one can contemplate the profound subtleties of the Dao; by remaining constantly with desire, one can observe its manifestations at the boundaries. These two—originating from the same source yet bearing different names—are both profoundly mysterious. This profound mystery within a mystery is the gateway to all the wonders of the Dao.
(2) When everyone in the world recognizes beauty as beauty, ugliness arises. When everyone in the world recognizes goodness as goodness, badness arises. Thus, existence and non-existence give rise to each other; difficulty and ease complement each other; length and shortness define each other; height and lowness lean on each other; sound and tone harmonize with each other; before and after follow one another. Therefore, the sage acts through non-action and teaches without words: all things arise yet do not claim credit; they are brought into being yet are not possessed. They act without reliance, and when their work is accomplished, they do not dwell upon it. Precisely because they do not dwell upon it, their achievements never depart.
(3) Do not exalt the worthy, so that the people will not compete; do not prize rare and precious goods, so that the people will not turn to theft; do not display what arouses desire, so that the mind will not be thrown into disorder. Thus, in governing, the sage empties the people’s minds, fills their bellies, weakens their ambitions, and strengthens their bones. The people are kept in a state of ignorance and lack of desire, so that those who possess knowledge dare not act rashly. By acting through non-action, there is nothing that cannot be governed.
(4) The Dao is like a hollow vessel: though it seems empty, its use is inexhaustible. It is deep and unfathomable, like the primordial source of all things. It blunts sharp edges, untangles knots, harmonizes its radiance, and mingles with the dust of the world. It seems to exist yet remains elusive. I do not know whose child it is—it appears even before the Emperor.
(5) Heaven and Earth are not benevolent—they treat all things as straw dogs; the sage is not benevolent—they treat the people as straw dogs. Between heaven and earth, is it not like a bellows? It is empty yet unyielding; the more it moves, the more it produces. Excessive speech leads to exhaustion; it is better to maintain the center.
(6) The Valley Spirit never dies; this is called the Mysterious Female. The gate of the Mysterious Female is the root of Heaven and Earth. It endures endlessly, yet its use never grows weary.
(7) Heaven and Earth endure forever. The reason Heaven and Earth can endure for so long is that they do not exist for themselves; thus, they can endure indefinitely. Therefore, the sage places themselves last yet comes first; sets themselves aside yet remains. Is this not because they are selfless? It is precisely because of their selflessness that they achieve their own ends.
(8) The highest form of goodness is like water. Water benefits all things without striving; it dwells in places that others disdain, and thus comes close to the Dao. It lives in good places, its mind is deep like a pool, it is benevolent in its interactions, truthful in its speech, upright in its governance, capable in its actions, and timely in its movements. Precisely because it does not contend, it incurs no blame.
(9) To hold something full to the brim is worse than letting it rest; to sharpen an edge too much cannot ensure its longevity. Even if gold and jade fill the hall, no one can truly guard them; wealth and honor, coupled with arrogance, only invite disaster. When achievement is complete, withdraw—this is the way of Heaven.
(10) If one holds the spirit and body as one, can they remain undivided? If one concentrates the vital energy and attains softness, can one become like an infant? If one purifies the profound vision, can one remain without blemish? In governing the people and the state, can one act without relying on knowledge or contrivance? When the “heavenly gate” opens and closes, can one yield and remain in a receptive, “feminine” state? With clarity and insight permeating all directions, can one still act without clinging to knowledge or contrivance? To give birth to and nurture all things—to bring forth yet not possess, to act yet not rely on one’s actions, to foster growth yet not dominate—this is what is meant by “profound virtue.”
(11) Thirty spokes converge at a single hub; it is the empty space within that makes the wheel useful. Clay is shaped into vessels; it is the empty space within that makes the vessels useful. Doors and windows are carved out to form a room; it is the empty space within that makes the room useful. Thus, “being” provides utility, while “non-being” provides function.
(12) Excessive colors blind the eye; excessive sounds deafen the ear; excessive flavors dull the palate; unrestrained hunting and racing drive the mind into frenzy; rare and coveted goods lead people astray. Therefore, the sage focuses on what nourishes the body rather than what pleases the eyes, discarding the latter in favor of the former.
(13) To be startled by honor or disgrace is akin to regarding great misfortune as one’s own body. What does it mean to be startled by honor or disgrace? Honor is something bestowed from below: to gain it causes alarm, and to lose it also causes alarm—this is what it means to be startled by honor or disgrace. What does it mean to regard great misfortune as one’s own body? The reason I have great worries is that I have a “self”; if I had no self, what could I worry about? Therefore, one who values the self as the foundation for governing the world may be entrusted with the world; one who cherishes the self as the basis for caring for the world may be entrusted with the world.
(14) When you look at it, you cannot see it—it is called “Yi”; when you listen to it, you cannot hear it—it is called “Xi”; when you try to grasp it, you cannot catch it—it is called “Wei.” These three aspects cannot be analyzed or defined separately, so they merge into a single unity. Above, it is not bright; below, it is not obscure. It is beyond description, yet it reverts to nothingness. This is what is meant by a form without form, an image without substance—a state of indistinctness and vagueness. Approach it, and you cannot discern its beginning; follow it, and you cannot trace its end. By adhering to the ancient Dao, one can govern the present. To comprehend the primordial origins is to understand the principles of the Dao.
(15) In ancient times, those skilled in the Way were subtle, profound, and unfathomable—so deep that they could not be fully understood. Precisely because they are incomprehensible, we can only describe them in vague terms. They are cautious, like crossing a river in winter; wary, like fearing their neighbors; solemn, like someone preparing for a formal occasion; flexible, like ice about to melt; simple and unadorned, like raw wood; vast and open, like a deep valley; muddled and 浑然一体, like muddy water. Who can calm turbid waters so that clarity gradually emerges? Who can remain steady and allow movement to give rise to new vitality over time? Those who uphold this Way do not seek to be full or complete. Only by avoiding excess can they avoid being obscured by newly formed attachments or achievements.
(16) Reach the utmost in emptiness; abide in profound stillness. As all things surge into being, I observe their return. All things, myriad in their diversity, each return to their root. To return to the root is to abide in stillness—this is called returning to one’s true nature. To return to one’s true nature is to abide in the constant; to know the constant is to be enlightened. If one fails to recognize the constant, rash actions will bring misfortune. To embrace the constant is to be all-inclusive; through inclusiveness comes impartiality; through impartiality comes kingship; through kingship comes alignment with Heaven; through alignment with Heaven comes the Dao; through the Dao comes enduring stability; even unto death, one remains unharmed.
(17) The highest form of governance is such that the people are barely aware of its existence; next comes a ruler whom the people revere and praise; next comes one whom the people fear; and last comes one whom the people despise. If trust is lacking, how can there be no distrust? The sage acts with great composure, holding words of guidance in high esteem. When tasks are accomplished and affairs succeed, the people all say, “It happened naturally.”
(18) When the Great Way falls into disuse, benevolence and righteousness arise; when cunning and cleverness emerge, great hypocrisy follows; when familial harmony breaks down, filial piety and compassion become necessary; when a state is mired in chaos, loyal ministers appear.
(19) Abandon sageliness and discard cleverness, and the people will benefit a hundredfold; abandon benevolence and discard righteousness, and the people will return to filial piety and compassion; abandon artifice and discard personal gain, and thieves and bandits will vanish. Yet these three—sageliness, benevolence, and artifice—are insufficient as guiding principles alone. Therefore, let there be a clear focus: reveal simplicity, hold fast to the primordial; have few private desires and few cravings.
(20) When one abandons contrived learning, there is no cause for worry. Yet between “yes” and “no,” how great is the difference? Between good and evil, how vast is the divide? What the people fear, one must also fear. How vast and boundless it all seems! The masses bustle about, as if feasting at a grand banquet or ascending a terrace in spring. I alone am cautious, as if nothing has yet appeared; like an infant who has not yet begun to smile; listless and forlorn, as if having nowhere to belong. All others seem to have more than enough, while I alone seem to lack. Am I but a foolish person? In my confusion, while the common folk are clear-minded, I alone seem muddled. While the common folk are sharp and discerning, I alone am dull and opaque. My demeanor is vast and tranquil, like the sea; my spirit is free and unfettered, yet all others have their pursuits, while I alone remain stubborn and seemingly coarse. It is only I who differ from others—and I value nourishment from the mother.
(21) The form of the Dao is such that it follows only the Dao itself. As a thing, the Dao is indistinct and elusive: fleeting and hazy, yet within it lies an underlying pattern; hazy and fleeting, yet within it exists a tangible substance. Profound and obscure, it contains an essential essence—this essence is supremely real, and it carries inherent trustworthiness. From ancient times to the present, the name of the Dao has never departed; it serves as the means by which all things are observed and understood. How do I know the nature of all things? From this.
(22) By bending, one remains whole; by yielding, one becomes straight; by sinking into a hollow, one becomes full; by embracing imperfection, one renews oneself; by holding little, one gains; by holding much, one becomes confused. Therefore, the sage holds to the One and serves as the model for the world. Because the sage does not assert self, they are clear; because they do not claim righteousness, their virtue stands out; because they do not boast of their achievements, they achieve lasting merit; because they do not exalt themselves, they endure. It is precisely because they do not contend that no one under heaven can contend with them. Is the ancient saying “by bending, one remains whole” merely empty rhetoric? No—it is a truth that leads to wholeness and ultimate return.
(23) Rare words accord with the natural order; thus, a raging gale does not last a whole morning, nor does a torrential downpour last a whole day. Who brings this about? Heaven and Earth. If even Heaven and Earth cannot endure forever, how much less can mere humans? Therefore, those who engage with the Dao abide by the Dao; those who embody virtue abide by virtue; those who fall into deficiency abide by deficiency. Those who abide by the Dao find joy in the Dao; those who abide by virtue find joy in virtue; those who abide by deficiency find joy in deficiency. If trustworthiness is insufficient, how can there be genuine trust?
(24) One who strains to stand cannot stand firm; one who strides too far cannot go far; one who insists on seeing only their own perspective lacks clarity; one who is self-righteous fails to stand out; one who boasts of their achievements achieves no lasting merit; one who exalts themselves cannot endure. In the context of the Dao, this is described as “surplus food and superfluous actions.” Such things may be repugnant to others, which is why those who follow the Dao avoid them.
(25) There is a primordial entity, formed from chaos, that existed before Heaven and Earth. Silent and empty, it stands alone unchanged, circulates ceaselessly without peril, and can be regarded as the mother of all things under heaven. I do not know its name, so I designate it as the Dao; I forcibly name it “Great.” “Great” signifies its transcendence; “transcendence” signifies its vastness; “vastness” signifies its return to the origin. Thus, the Dao is great, Heaven is great, Earth is great, and the ruler is also great. Within the realm, there are four great entities, and the ruler occupies one of them. Humans take Earth as their model; Earth takes Heaven as its model; Heaven takes the Dao as its model; and the Dao takes the natural order as its model.
(26) Heaviness is the root of lightness; stillness is the master of restlessness. Therefore, the sage conducts all day’s affairs without ever straying far from their baggage and provisions. Though they may enjoy glorious sights, they dwell in tranquility and remain detached. How then can a ruler of ten thousand chariots treat their own person as light and thereby endanger the entire realm? To be overly light is to lose one’s foundation; to be overly restless is to forfeit one’s mastery.
(27) The best conduct leaves no tracks; the best words are beyond reproach; the best counting requires no tally sticks or abacus; the best locking mechanism requires no bolts or locks yet remains unbreakable; the best tying requires no ropes or knots yet remains untieable. Hence, the sage is always adept at saving people, so there are no “discarded” people; the sage is always adept at saving things, so there are no “discarded” things. This is called “inheriting clarity.” Thus, the good person serves as a teacher to the not-so-good, while the not-so-good provide the resources for the good. If one neither values the teacher nor cherishes the resource, even the wise will fall into great delusion—this is the profound subtlety.
(28) Knowing the masculine, yet guarding the feminine, one becomes the stream of the world. As the stream of the world, constant virtue never departs, and one returns to the innocence of an infant. Knowing the bright, yet guarding the dark, one becomes the pattern for the world. As the pattern for the world, constant virtue remains unerring, and one returns to the boundless Wuji. Knowing the honored, yet guarding the humbled, one becomes the valley of the world. As the valley of the world, constant virtue is fully realized, and one returns to simplicity. When simplicity disperses, it gives rise to tools and implements; when the sage employs them, they become instruments of governance. Hence, great governance does not seek to fragment or divide.
(29) If one seeks to seize the world through contrivance, I see that such an endeavor is doomed to failure. The world is a sacred instrument; it cannot be seized by force. Those who attempt to seize it will fail, and those who cling to it will lose it. Therefore, some things advance, while others follow; some exhale, while others inhale; some are strong, while others are weak; some are subdued, while others collapse. For this reason, the sage eliminates extremes, excess, and overindulgence.
(30) One who uses the Dao to assist a ruler should not seek to dominate the world through military might. Such actions tend to rebound upon the perpetrator. Where armies have been stationed, thorns and brambles spring up; after a great army has passed, famine and hardship are sure to follow. It is sufficient to achieve a favorable outcome, but one must not rely on force to secure it. When an outcome is achieved, do not be arrogant; when an outcome is achieved, do not boast; when an outcome is achieved, do not become conceited. If an outcome is achieved only out of necessity, do not resort to force. When things grow too strong, they begin to age—this is contrary to the Dao, and such a path has long since gone astray.
(31) A formidable weapon is an instrument of ill omen; even things may abhor it, and thus those who follow the Way do not dwell in its vicinity. In times of peace, the noble person values the left; in times of war, they value the right. Weapons are instruments of ill omen—not the tools of a noble person—and should be employed only when absolutely necessary, with equanimity as the highest principle. To triumph yet find no beauty in it, or to glorify such triumph, is to take pleasure in killing. One who delights in killing cannot hope to achieve their ambitions in the world. Auspicious affairs favor the left; inauspicious affairs favor the right. The deputy general stations on the left, while the supreme commander stations on the right—this signifies that warfare is treated with funeral rites. When many have been killed, mourning and lamentation are appropriate; victory in battle is likewise treated with funeral rites.
(32) The Dao is eternally nameless. Though primordial simplicity may seem small, nothing under heaven can subjugate it. If rulers and kings can uphold it, all things will naturally come into harmony. When Heaven and Earth converge, sweet dew descends; the people require no command, yet distribution occurs naturally and evenly. Once distinctions and names are established, and names come into being, one should know when to cease—knowing when to stop prevents peril. The Dao’s presence in the world is like rivers and valleys flowing toward the great seas.
(33) To know others is intelligence; to know oneself is clarity. To overcome others requires strength; to overcome oneself requires inner fortitude. He who knows contentment is truly rich. He who presses forward with resolve has true purpose. He who does not lose his footing endures. He who dies yet is not forgotten enjoys true longevity.
(34) The Great Dao pervades all things, extending equally to the left and to the right. All things rely on it for existence yet make no demands; once their tasks are accomplished, they claim no credit. It nourishes and sustains all things without seeking to dominate; ever devoid of desire, it may be described as “small.” All things return to it yet it does not seek to rule over them—it may thus be described as “great.” Precisely because it never regards itself as great, it is able to attain true greatness.
(35) Hold fast to the Great Image, and all under heaven will turn to it. They turn to it without causing harm; peace and stability prevail. Pleasures and enticements are like bait—mere passersby are lured in and then depart. The Dao, when it issues forth, is bland and tasteless; it is not readily seen, not easily heard, and its use is inexhaustible.
(36) To contract something, you must first allow it to expand; to weaken something, you must first allow it to appear strong; to bring something to ruin, you must first allow it to flourish; to take something away, you must first give it generously. This is what is meant by “subtle clarity.” The soft and the weak prevail over the hard and the strong. Just as a fish cannot be separated from the deep waters, so too should a nation’s most potent tools and strategies not be exposed to others.
(37) The Dao is inherently non-action-oriented yet accomplishes everything. If rulers and nobles can abide by the Dao, all things will transform themselves naturally. When transformation gives rise to desire or disorder, I will quell it with the “Nameless Simplicity.” With the Nameless Simplicity, even those who follow the Dao will lose their desires. By remaining desireless and tranquil, the world will naturally settle into order.
(38) The highest virtue does not consciously strive for virtue, and thus truly possesses virtue; the lower virtue strives not to lose virtue, and thus lacks true virtue. The highest virtue acts without intention and has no need to act; the lower virtue acts with intention and has a purpose in its actions. The highest benevolence acts without ulterior motives; the highest righteousness acts with a specific aim. When the highest ritual is practiced but goes unheeded, people will roll up their sleeves and forcefully impose it. Thus, when the Dao is lost, virtue takes its place; when virtue is lost, benevolence takes its place; when benevolence is lost, righteousness takes its place; when righteousness is lost, ritual takes its place. Ritual represents a thinning of loyalty and trust and is the harbinger of chaos. Prior knowledge of ritual is the superficial adornment of the Dao and the beginning of folly. Therefore, the great person dwells in what is substantial and profound, rather than in what is shallow and superficial; they dwell in what is real and genuine, rather than in what is merely ornamental. Hence, one should discard the superficial and embrace the substantive.
(39) In ancient times, those who attained the One were as follows: Heaven attained the One and became pure; Earth attained the One and became stable; the divine attained the One and became efficacious; the valley attained the One and became full; all things attained the One and came into being; rulers and nobles attained the One and thereby secured the stability of the realm. If Heaven fails to maintain this purity, it may split apart; if Earth fails to maintain this stability, it may rupture; if the divine fails to maintain its efficacy, it may cease to function; if the valley fails to remain full, it may run dry; if all things fail to sustain life, they may perish; if rulers and nobles fail to maintain their exalted status, they may fall from power. Thus, the noble derives its value from the base, and the high is founded on the low. For this reason, rulers and nobles refer to themselves as “orphaned,” “widowed,” or “without sustenance.” Is this not precisely taking the base as the foundation? Hence, excessive praise ultimately brings no praise. One should not seek fleeting renown like jade, but instead seek enduring integrity like stone.
(40) The Dao manifests in its reversal; the Dao operates through its weakness. All things in the universe arise from “being,” and “being” arises from “non-being.”
(41) The superior hear the Dao and diligently put it into practice; the middling hear the Dao and treat it with indifference, as if it exists yet might not; the inferior hear the Dao and laugh at it outright. If they do not laugh, it is not the Dao. Thus, an ancient maxim states: The clear Dao appears obscure; advancing on the Dao seems like retreating; the level Dao seems rugged; supreme virtue seems like a deep valley; the brightest brilliance seems like disgrace; vast virtue seems lacking; establishing virtue seems stealthy; genuine substance seems to decay; the greatest square has no corners; the greatest vessel is slow to take shape; the loudest sound is almost silent; the greatest form has no form; the Dao is hidden and nameless. It is precisely because of the Dao that all things are readily lent to and brought to fruition.
(42) The Dao gives rise to the One; the One gives rise to the Two; the Two give rise to the Three; and the Three give rise to all things. All things carry yin and embrace yang, and through the blending of opposing forces achieve harmony. What people most abhor—loneliness, lack of followers, barrenness—is precisely what kings and nobles use as self-designations. Therefore, some things seem to be diminished yet are actually enhanced, while others seem to be enhanced yet are actually diminished. What others teach, I also teach. Those who rely on force will not meet a good end; this I take as my guiding principle.
(43) The utmost softness under heaven can gallop through the utmost hardness under heaven. The formless penetrates the void without gaps; thus I know that the benefit of wuwei is immeasurable. The teaching that requires no words, the benefit of wuwei—these are rare in the world.
(44) Between name and body, which is more intimate? Between body and wealth, which is more valuable? Between gain and loss, which brings greater harm? Therefore, excessive love inevitably leads to great expenditure; excessive hoarding inevitably leads to severe loss. Knowing contentment spares one from humiliation; knowing when to stop spares one from peril, enabling one to endure for a long time.
(45) Great achievement appears incomplete, yet its utility never falters; great fullness appears empty, yet its utility is inexhaustible. The straightest line appears bent; the greatest skill appears clumsy; the greatest eloquence appears hesitant. Restlessness overcomes cold; stillness overcomes heat. Tranquility and stillness are the proper way to govern the world.
(46) When the Way prevails in the world, horses are used to plow fields; when the Way is absent, warhorses breed in the outskirts. The greatest misfortune lies in never being content; the gravest fault arises from insatiable desire. Therefore, those who know contentment are always truly content.
(47) One can understand the world without leaving one’s home; one can perceive the Dao without peering through a window. The farther one ventures outward, the less one truly knows. Thus, the sage knows without traveling, recognizes without seeing, and accomplishes without acting.
(48) In the pursuit of knowledge, one accumulates more each day; in the pursuit of the Dao, one diminishes more each day. By continually diminishing, one ultimately attains wuwei—non-action. Through wuwei, nothing remains unaccomplished. To govern the world, one should always act without creating unnecessary disturbances; once disturbances arise, it becomes impossible to truly govern the world.
(49) The sage has no fixed mind of their own but takes the people’s mind as their own. To the good, the sage responds with goodness; to the not-good, the sage also responds with goodness—this is the virtue of benevolence. To those who are trustworthy, the sage responds with trust; to those who are untrustworthy, the sage also responds with trust—this is the virtue of faithfulness. When the sage governs the world, they unify the hearts of all under heaven, and the people focus their ears and eyes on the sage, whom they treat as a child.
(50) Birth and death are intertwined. Among those who live, one-third are destined for life; among those who die, one-third are destined for death; among those whose actions lead them toward death, one-third are so destined. Why is this so? Because they cling too tightly to life. It is said that those skilled in nurturing life will not encounter rhinoceroses or tigers when traveling overland, nor will they be exposed to armor and weapons when entering the battlefield. The rhinoceros has no place to strike with its horn, the tiger has no place to strike with its claws, and the weapon has no edge to be used against them. Why is this so? Because they have no “death zone” in which they can be harmed.
(51) The Dao gives birth to all things; virtue nourishes them; material forms give them shape; and the interplay of forces brings them to completion. Therefore, all things revere the Dao and value virtue. The reverence of the Dao and the preciousness of virtue arise naturally—no one commands them, yet they are ever thus. Hence, the Dao gives birth to all things, and virtue nurtures them; it fosters their growth, sustains their development, protects them from harm, and ensures their well-being. It gives birth without possessing, acts without relying on its actions, fosters growth without dominating—this is what is known as profound virtue.
(52) The origin of all under heaven exists as the mother of the world. Once you have grasped the mother, you can understand the children; once you understand the children, if you continue to abide by the mother, you will remain safe throughout your life. Block the apertures and close the gates, and you will never labor in vain for a lifetime. Open the apertures and engage in worldly affairs, and you will find yourself in perpetual peril that cannot be remedied. To perceive the subtle is to be enlightened; to uphold softness is to be strong. Draw upon the light within and return to that inner clarity, so that no calamity befalls you—this is the practice of the constant.
(53) If I were but slightly enlightened and walked the great Dao, I would fear only deviation from the straight path. The great Dao is wide and level, yet people prefer shortcuts. Palaces are lavishly maintained while fields lie fallow and granaries are empty; people adorn themselves with fine clothes and carry sharp swords, indulge in rich food and drink, and hoard excessive wealth—this is the arrogance of thieves. Is this the way?
(54) One who is skillfully established cannot be uprooted; one who is skillfully embraced cannot be torn away, and their descendants will perpetually honor them through ancestral rites. When cultivation is applied to the self, virtue becomes genuine; when applied to the family, virtue abounds; when applied to the community, virtue endures; when applied to the state, virtue flourishes; and when applied to the entire realm, virtue permeates all. Therefore, by examining the self, one understands the self; by examining the family, one understands the family; by examining the community, one understands the community; by examining the state, one understands the state; and by examining the world, one understands the world. How do I know that this holds true for the world? From this very principle.
(55) One whose virtue is deeply rooted is like an infant. Bees, scorpions, vipers, and snakes do not sting; ferocious beasts do not attack; predatory birds do not strike. The bones are weak, the tendons supple, yet the grip is firm. Even before knowing the union of male and female, the body functions perfectly—this is the pinnacle of vital essence. Though crying all day long, the voice does not grow hoarse—this is the pinnacle of harmony. To understand harmony is to understand the constant; to understand the constant is to be enlightened; to nurture life is to invite auspiciousness. When the mind governs qi, one becomes strong. When things reach their peak, they begin to decline—this is contrary to the Dao, and those who act against the Dao perish early.
(56) The wise do not speak; those who speak do not truly know. Block their openings, close their gates, blunt their sharp edges, dissolve their distinctions, harmonize their radiance, and blend with the dust—this is called “mysterious unity.” Therefore, they cannot be brought close nor kept at a distance; they cannot be made to benefit nor harmed; they cannot be exalted nor debased. Hence, they are held in the highest esteem throughout the realm.
(57) Govern the state with rectitude; employ troops with the unexpected; gain the world without creating unnecessary disturbances. How do I know this to be true? From this: When taboos and prohibitions proliferate across the realm, the people grow ever poorer; when the people possess an abundance of sophisticated tools, the state becomes increasingly muddled; when people excel in cunning and artifice, strange and unconventional contrivances multiply; when laws and regulations become increasingly stringent, theft and banditry run rampant. Thus the sage says: “If I act through non-action, the people will transform themselves; if I embrace stillness, the people will naturally abide by righteousness; if I create no unnecessary disturbances, the people will naturally prosper; if I am free from desire, the people will naturally remain simple and unadorned.”
(58) When governance is vague and opaque, the people are pure and sincere; when governance is overly meticulous and nitpicky, the people become fragmented and distrustful. Misfortune harbors the seed of fortune, and fortune conceals the seeds of misfortune. Who can truly discern the ultimate limit? There is no fixed, immutable norm. What appears as rectitude may revert to the unusual; what seems virtuous may degenerate into the malevolent. Humanity’s delusion has persisted for a long time. Therefore, the sage remains square yet does not cut; sharp yet does not wound; upright yet does not overstep; radiant yet does not dazzle.
(59) In governing people and serving Heaven, nothing is better than frugality. Only through frugality can one be said to have “early compliance”; early compliance signifies the deep accumulation of virtue. With virtue deeply accumulated, nothing is unconquerable. When nothing is unconquerable, there is no discernible limit to one’s reach. With no discernible limit, one may sustain a state. The mother of a sustained state ensures enduring stability. This is the way of “deeply rooted and firmly grounded,” the path to longevity and enduring insight.
(60) Governing a great nation is like cooking a small fish—handle it with care. When one governs the world in accordance with the Dao, the spirits of the dead do not manifest as malevolent forces; and even if they do not manifest as malevolent forces, their power does not harm people; and even if their power does not harm people, the sage likewise does not harm people. Since neither harms the other, virtue flows freely between them, and mutual benefit arises.
(61) A great power resides in humility; it is the confluence of all under heaven, the “feminine” principle that governs the world. The feminine, through stillness and calm, consistently prevails over the masculine. Thus, when a great power humbles itself before a smaller state, it gains that smaller state; when a smaller state humbles itself before a great power, it gains the favor of the great power. In this way, some gain through humility, while others gain by being humble. A great power seeks no more than to encompass and nurture all people, while a smaller state seeks no more than to serve and integrate with others. When both—great and small—achieve what they desire, it is fitting that the greater should adopt a posture of humility.
(62) The Dao is the profound mystery underlying all things. It is the treasure of the virtuous yet also the safeguard of those who are not virtuous. Eloquent words may win you favor, and noble conduct may elevate you in the eyes of others. If people are not virtuous, why should they be abandoned? Hence, even when establishing a sovereign or appointing three high ministers, and despite presenting jade disks and fine horses as gifts, it is still better to sit in stillness and advance along this Dao. Why has the Dao been so highly esteemed since ancient times? Is it not because those who seek it find what they seek, and those who bear guilt find exemption from punishment? For this reason, the Dao is held in such high regard throughout the realm.
(63) Act without striving, handle affairs without exertion, and savor the flavor of the formless. Whether large or small, many or few, repay resentment with virtue. Tackle difficulties when they are still manageable; address great tasks when they are still in their nascent stages. All difficult tasks in the world must begin with what is easy; all great undertakings in the world must begin with the small and the subtle. This is why the sage never seeks to act on a grand scale—precisely because of this, the sage is able to accomplish great things. Promises made lightly are seldom kept; tasks treated as trivial will inevitably lead to greater difficulties. Therefore, the sage regards even the seemingly easy as inherently challenging, and in doing so, ultimately encounters no real difficulty.
(64) When things are stable, they are easy to maintain; when problems have not yet manifested, they are easy to address. When something is fragile, it breaks easily; when something is subtle, it dissipates quickly. Act before problems arise; govern before chaos takes hold. A tree that requires several arm spans to encircle begins as a tiny sprout; a nine-story tower rises from layers of piled earth; a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Those who act rashly will fail; those who cling too tightly will lose. This is why the sage acts without striving and thus avoids failure; refrains from clinging and thus avoids loss. In their endeavors, people often falter just short of success. If one remains as cautious at the end as at the beginning, there will be no failures. For this reason, the sage pursues what others do not pursue and does not value rare or precious goods; the sage learns what others do not learn, redresses the mistakes common to all, supports the natural order of all things, and refrains from imposing artificial intervention.
(65) In ancient times, those skilled in the Dao did not seek to enlighten the people but rather to guide them toward simplicity and humility. The difficulty in governing the people arises precisely because they are overly clever and calculating. Thus, governing a state with excessive reliance on intellect is a grave threat to the state, whereas governing without over-reliance on intellect brings true benefit to the state. To discern between these two approaches is itself a profound art. To constantly maintain this discernment is what is known as “profound virtue.” This profound virtue is deep and far-reaching; it operates in ways that seem to run counter to the ordinary workings of the world, yet through this very counterintuitive approach, it ultimately leads to the greatest harmony and accord.
(66) The reason rivers and seas can be kings of all valleys is that they are good at abiding in low places; thus, they can serve as kings of all valleys. Therefore, if a sage wishes to place themselves above the people, they must humble themselves in word; if they wish to come before the people, they must put themselves behind them. For this reason, when a sage occupies a high position, the people do not feel burdened; when they stand in the forefront, the people are not harmed. As a result, the people of the world willingly acclaim them without tiring of doing so. Because they do not contend, no one under heaven can contend with them.
(67) All under heaven say my Dao is great, yet it seems unlike anything else. Precisely because it is so great does it seem unlike anything else. If it were like something, it would have long since become specific and limited. How subtle it is! I possess three treasures, which I hold fast and guard jealously: the first is compassion, the second is frugality, and the third is not daring to be first in the world. Because of compassion, one can be truly courageous; because of frugality, one can be truly expansive; because one does not dare to be first in the world, one can truly become a master craftsman or leader. Today, those who abandon compassion in favor of mere boldness, abandon frugality in favor of reckless expansion, and abandon humility in favor of seeking primacy—such people are doomed. With compassion, one prevails in battle; with compassion, one holds firm in defense. When Heaven intends to save someone, it protects them with compassion.
(68) A true warrior does not rely on brute force; a true combatant does not give in to anger; a true victor over enemies does not engage in direct confrontation; a true leader of others places themselves below others. This is what is meant by the virtue of non-contention, the power of skillfully employing others, and the alignment with the primordial, eternal principle that resonates with Heaven.
(69) In the art of war, it is said: “I dare not act as the aggressor but rather as the defender; I dare not advance an inch but am willing to retreat a foot.” This is what it means to move without making visible movements, to strike without raising an arm, to confront the enemy without facing visible opposition, and to wield no weapons yet remain invincible. The greatest calamity lies in underestimating the enemy; underestimating the enemy is tantamount to forfeiting my three treasures. Therefore, when opposing forces clash, the side that grieves over its losses will ultimately prevail.
(70) My words are very easy to understand and very easy to put into practice, yet the world cannot understand them, nor can it put them into practice. Words have a fundamental source, and actions have a guiding principle. It is precisely because people lack true understanding that they fail to know me. Those who truly know me are few, and those who follow me are therefore highly esteemed. For this reason, the sage wears coarse garments yet harbors a precious jewel within.
(71) To know and yet regard it as not knowing is the highest state; to not know yet think one knows is a disease. Only by recognizing this “disease” as a disease can one avoid falling ill. The sage does not fall ill because they regard this “disease” as a disease; hence, they remain free from illness.
(72) When the people no longer fear authority, great peril will arise. Do not oppress the spaces where the people dwell, nor exhaust the resources that sustain them. It is precisely because you do not exhaust or oppress that you yourself are not exhausted or oppressed. Therefore, the sage is self-aware but does not flaunt their own insight; they cherish themselves but do not exalt themselves. Hence, they discard the former and embrace the latter.
(73) If one dares to act recklessly, one invites destruction; if one refrains from reckless action, one survives. These two approaches may bring either benefit or harm. What Heaven detests—who can truly fathom the reason? Even the sage finds this hard to comprehend. The Way of Heaven does not contend yet prevails with ease; it does not speak yet responds with precision; it does not summon yet things come of their own accord; it proceeds calmly yet orchestrates all with skill. Heaven’s net is vast and all-encompassing, its meshes may seem loose, yet nothing escapes its grasp.
(74) If the people no longer fear death, how can you frighten them with the threat of death? If the people consistently feared death, and there were those who acted in ways that defy convention, I could seize and execute them—who would dare to act otherwise? In practice, those entrusted with meting out punishment are the ones who carry it out. Yet those who substitute for the master craftsman in wielding the axe rarely fail to injure their own hands.
(75) The people suffer from hunger because their superiors levy excessive taxes; hence, they are hungry. The people are difficult to govern because their superiors engage in overly interventionist governance; hence, they are hard to govern. The people take death lightly because they pursue survival with excessive intensity; hence, they take death lightly. Only those who do not cling to survival as an end in itself are superior to those who place excessive value on survival.
(76) In life, humans are soft and pliable; in death, they are stiff and rigid. In the living world, plants and vegetation are tender and fragile; upon death, they become dry and withered. Thus, the strong and rigid belong to the camp of death, while the soft and pliable belong to the camp of life. Accordingly, an army that relies solely on brute strength is destined to fail; a tree that is overly rigid is prone to breakage. The strong and powerful tend to occupy lower positions, whereas the soft and weak tend to rise to higher positions.
(77) The way of Heaven is like drawing a bow: What is high is pressed down, and what is low is raised up; what has excess is reduced, and what is lacking is supplemented. The way of Heaven diminishes the excessive to replenish the deficient. By contrast, the way of humanity does not follow this principle: It takes from those who lack to enrich those who already have too much. Who can truly possess surplus resources and use them to benefit all under Heaven? Only those who embody the Dao can do so. Therefore, the sage acts without relying on their own power, achieves success without clinging to it, and deliberately avoids seeking recognition or acclaim for their virtue.
(78) Among all things in the world, none is softer and more yielding than water, yet when it confronts the hard and the strong, nothing can match its power to overcome them—there is no substitute for it. Everyone knows that the weak can overcome the strong, and the soft can overcome the hard, yet few are able to put this principle into practice. For this reason, the sage says: “To bear the shame of the realm is to be the master of the state; to bear the misfortunes of the realm is to be the ruler of all under Heaven.” True words often seem paradoxical.
(79) When great grievances are reconciled, residual resentment is bound to remain; how, then, can such reconciliation truly be considered “good”? For this reason, the sage holds the left-hand contract but does not demand accountability from others. Those endowed with virtue manage contracts with fairness and integrity, while those lacking virtue resort to arbitrary enforcement. The Way of Heaven shows no favoritism; it consistently aligns with those who act with virtue.
(80) In a small country with a sparse population, even if there exist tools capable of serving dozens or hundreds, they are left unused; the people value their lives so deeply that they are unwilling to migrate far from home. Although boats and carriages are available, there is no need to use them; although armor and weapons exist, there is no occasion to deploy them. The people return to using knotted ropes for record-keeping, find contentment in their food, take pride in their clothing, feel secure in their dwellings, and delight in their customs. Neighboring states can see one another across the border, and the sounds of chickens and dogs can be heard between them; yet the people live out their lives without ever interacting with one another.
(81) True words are not always pleasing; pleasing words are not always true. The virtuous do not engage in fruitless arguments; those who engage in fruitless arguments are not truly virtuous. The wise do not seek to be all-knowing; those who claim to know everything lack true understanding. The sage does not hoard; the more they give to others, the more they possess themselves. The way of Heaven brings benefit without causing harm; the way of the sage is to act without striving or contending.