Heshang Gong Edition
Chapter 22
Bent, then whole; crooked, then straight; hollow, then full; worn, then new; having little, then gaining much; having much, then confused. Therefore the sage embraces the One and becomes the model for the 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 he has merit; he does not pride himself, and so he endures. Precisely because he does not contend, no one in the world can contend with him. The saying of old, “Bent, then whole”—is it an empty saying? Truly, wholeness will return to him.
Chapter 23
To speak little is natural. A whirlwind does not last the whole morning; a sudden downpour does not last the whole day. Who makes these? Heaven and earth. If even heaven and earth cannot make things last long, how much less can human beings? Therefore, of those who follow the Tao in their affairs: one who is of the Tao is at one with the Tao; one who is of virtue is at one with virtue; one who is of loss is at one with loss. One who is at one with the Tao, the Tao gladly receives; one who is at one with virtue, virtue gladly receives; one who is at one with loss, loss gladly receives. When trust is insufficient, there is distrust.
Chapter 24
One who stands on tiptoe does not stand firm; one who takes long strides does not walk far; one who displays himself does not shine; one who asserts himself is not distinguished; one who boasts has no merit; one who prides himself does not endure. From the standpoint of the Tao, these are called leftover food and superfluous growths. Things may detest them; therefore one who has the Tao does not dwell in them.
Chapter 25
There is a thing formed in chaos, born before heaven and earth. Silent and void, it stands alone and does not change; it moves everywhere and is never endangered. It may be regarded as the mother of heaven and earth. I do not know its name; I style it “the Tao,” and forced to name it, I call it “great.” Great means passing on; passing on means going far; going far means returning. Therefore the Tao is great, heaven is great, earth is great, and the king too is great. Within the realm there are four greats, and the king is one of them. Humanity follows earth, earth follows heaven, heaven follows the Tao, and the Tao follows what is so of itself.
Chapter 26
The heavy is the root of the light; stillness is the lord of agitation. Therefore the noble person travels all day without leaving his baggage carts. Though there are splendid sights, he remains at ease and detached. How can the lord of ten thousand chariots treat his own person more lightly than the world? Being light, he loses his ministers; being agitated, he loses his lordship.
Chapter 27
Good walking leaves no tracks; good speech has no flaws or faults; good counting uses no tallies; good closing needs no bolt or bar, yet cannot be opened; good binding needs no cord or rope, yet cannot be untied. Therefore the sage is always good at saving people, and so no one is abandoned; he is always good at saving things, and so nothing is abandoned. This is called following the light. Therefore the good person is the teacher of the one who is not good; the one who is not good is the material of the good person. Not to value one's teacher, not to love one's material—though one may be clever, one is greatly deluded. This is called the essential mystery.
Chapter 28
Know the male, keep to the female, and be the ravine of the world. Being the ravine of the world, constant virtue will not depart, and one returns to infancy. Know the white, keep to the black, and be the model for the world. Being the model for the world, constant virtue will not err, and one returns to the Ultimate of Nothingness (Wuji). Know glory, keep to disgrace, and be the valley of the world. Being the valley of the world, constant virtue is sufficient, and one returns to the uncarved block. When the uncarved block is broken up, it becomes vessels; when the sage uses them, he becomes the chief of officials. Therefore the great carving does no cutting.
Chapter 29
One who wishes to take the world and act upon it—I see that he cannot succeed. The world is a sacred vessel; it cannot be acted upon. One who acts on it ruins it; one who grasps it loses it. Thus among things, some lead and some follow; some breathe gently and some blow hard; some are strong and some are weak; some are carried and some fall. Therefore the sage discards the extreme, the extravagant, and the excessive.
Chapter 30
One who assists the ruler with the Tao does not use arms to dominate the world. Such deeds tend to rebound. Where armies have camped, thorns and brambles grow. After a great war, there are sure to be years of famine. The good commander achieves his purpose and stops there; he dares not use it to seize strength. He achieves his purpose but does not pride himself; he achieves his purpose but does not boast; he achieves his purpose but is not arrogant; he achieves his purpose only because he has no choice; he achieves his purpose but does not seek domination. When things reach their prime they grow old; this is called going against the Tao, and what goes against the Tao soon comes to an end.
Chapter 31
Fine weapons are instruments of ill omen; things may detest them, and so one who has the Tao does not dwell with them. The noble person, at home, honors the left; when using arms, he honors the right. Weapons are instruments of ill omen, not the instruments of the noble person; he uses them only when he has no choice, and calm detachment is best. Victory is not a thing of beauty, and one who finds it beautiful delights in killing people. One who delights in killing people cannot achieve his aims in the world. Therefore in auspicious affairs the left is honored, and in inauspicious affairs the right is honored. The lieutenant general stands on the left, and the supreme general stands on the right; that is to say, war is treated as a funeral rite. When many people have been killed, one should weep for them in grief and sorrow; victory in war should be treated with the rites of mourning.
Chapter 32
The Tao is constantly nameless. Though the uncarved block is small, no one in the world dares to make it a subject. If lords and kings could hold to it, the myriad things would submit of their own accord. Heaven and earth unite to send down sweet dew, and the people, without being ordered, share it equally of themselves. When the carving begins, there are names; once there are names, heaven too will know when to stop. Knowing when to stop, one is free from danger. The Tao in the world may be compared to streams and valleys flowing into the rivers and the sea.
Chapter 33
One who knows others is clever; one who knows himself is enlightened. One who conquers others has force; one who conquers himself is strong. One who knows contentment is rich. One who perseveres has will. One who does not lose his place endures. One who dies but does not perish enjoys longevity.
Chapter 34
The Great Tao flows everywhere; it may go left or right. The myriad things rely on it for life, and it does not refuse them; its work is accomplished, yet it does not claim the name of possessing it. It clothes and nourishes the myriad things, yet does not act as their master; being constantly without desire, it may be called small. The myriad things return to it, yet it does not act as their master; it may be called great. Therefore the sage never makes himself great, and so he can achieve his greatness.
Chapter 35
Hold fast to the great image, and the world will come to you. It comes and meets no harm, but peace, calm, and security. Music and fine food make the passing traveler stop. But the Tao, when it comes from the mouth, is bland and without flavor. Looked at, it is not enough to be seen; listened to, it is not enough to be heard; used, it can never be exhausted.
Chapter 36
What is to be shrunk must first be stretched; what is to be weakened must first be strengthened; what is to be cast down must first be raised up; what is to be taken must first be given. This is called subtle illumination. The soft and weak overcome the hard and strong. Fish must not be taken out of the deep water; the sharp instruments of the state must not be shown to the people.
Chapter 37
The Tao constantly takes no action, yet nothing is left undone. If lords and kings could hold to it, the myriad things would transform of their own accord. If, having transformed, desires should arise, I would restrain them with the nameless uncarved block. The nameless uncarved block will likewise be free of desire. Free of desire and thereby still, the world will set itself right.
Chapter 38
Superior virtue does not hold itself as virtue, and so it has virtue. Inferior virtue never lets go of virtue, and so it has no virtue. Superior virtue takes no action and has no purpose in acting; inferior virtue takes action and has a purpose in acting. Superior humaneness acts but has no purpose in acting; superior righteousness acts and has a purpose in acting. Superior ritual acts, and when no one responds, it rolls up its sleeves and forces them. Therefore when the Tao is lost, there is virtue; when virtue is lost, there is humaneness; when humaneness is lost, there is righteousness; when righteousness is lost, there is ritual. Ritual is the thinning of loyalty and trustworthiness and the beginning of disorder. Foreknowledge is the flower of the Tao and the beginning of folly. Therefore the great man dwells in the thick and not in the thin; he abides in the fruit and not in the flower. Thus he rejects that and takes this.
Chapter 39
Of old, those that attained the One: heaven attained the One and became clear; earth attained the One and became tranquil; the spirits attained the One and became numinous; the valleys attained the One and became full; the myriad things attained the One and came to life; lords and kings attained the One and became the standard for the world. Carried to the extreme: were heaven not clear, it would likely split; were earth not tranquil, it would likely erupt; were the spirits not numinous, they would likely cease; were the valleys not full, they would likely run dry; were the myriad things not alive, they would likely perish; were lords and kings not noble and exalted, they would likely fall. Therefore the noble must take the lowly as its root, and the high must take the low as its foundation. That is why lords and kings call themselves “the orphaned,” “the widowed,” and “the unworthy.” Is this not taking the lowly as the root? Is it not so? Therefore count the parts of a carriage and there is no carriage. Do not wish to be precious like jade; be plain like stone.
Chapter 40
Returning is the movement of the Tao; weakness is the function of the Tao. The myriad things under heaven are born of being, and being is born of non-being.
Chapter 41
When the superior person hears of the Tao, he diligently practices it. When the average person hears of the Tao, he half believes and half doubts it. When the inferior person hears of the Tao, he laughs loudly at it. If it were not laughed at, it would not be worthy of being the Tao. Therefore the established sayings have it: the bright Tao seems dim; the Tao that advances seems to retreat; the level Tao seems uneven; superior virtue seems like a valley; the purest white seems sullied; ample virtue seems insufficient; established virtue seems furtive; true substance seems changeable; the great square has no corners; the great vessel is completed late; the great sound is faint; the great image has no form; the Tao is hidden and nameless. Yet it is the Tao alone that is good at giving and at bringing to completion.
Chapter 42
The Tao gives birth to one, one gives birth to two, two gives birth to three, and three gives birth to the myriad things. The myriad things carry yin on their backs and embrace yang, and through the blending of qi they achieve harmony. What people hate is to be “the orphaned,” “the widowed,” and “the unworthy,” yet kings and dukes call themselves by these names. Thus things are sometimes increased by being diminished, and sometimes diminished by being increased. What others teach, I also teach: the violent and overbearing do not die a natural death. I shall take this as the father of my teaching.
Chapter 43
The softest thing in the world gallops through the hardest thing in the world. That which has no substance enters where there is no gap. From this I know the benefit of non-action. The teaching without words and the benefit of non-action—few in the world attain them.
Chapter 44
Your name or your person—which is dearer? Your person or your goods—which is worth more? Gain or loss—which is more harmful? Excessive love is sure to bring great expense; hoarding much is sure to bring heavy loss. Know contentment and you will suffer no disgrace; know when to stop and you will meet no danger; thus you can long endure.
Chapter 45
Great perfection seems flawed, yet its use never wears out. Great fullness seems empty, yet its use is never exhausted. Great straightness seems bent; great skill seems clumsy; great eloquence seems halting. Movement overcomes cold; stillness overcomes heat. Clarity and stillness are the standard for the world.
Chapter 46
When the world has the Tao, the galloping horses are sent back to fertilize the fields. When the world is without the Tao, warhorses are bred on the outskirts. There is no crime greater than yielding to desire, no calamity greater than not knowing contentment, no fault greater than the wish to acquire. Therefore the contentment of knowing contentment is constant contentment.
Chapter 47
Without going out of the door, one knows the world; without looking out of the window, one sees the Tao of heaven. The farther one goes, the less one knows. Therefore the sage knows without traveling, names things without seeing them, and accomplishes without acting.
Chapter 48
In pursuing learning, one gains day by day; in pursuing the Tao, one loses day by day. Losing and losing again, one arrives at non-action. By non-action, nothing is left undone. The world is always won by having no affairs; one who has affairs is not fit to win the world.
Chapter 49
The sage has no constant mind of his own; he takes the mind of the common people as his mind. Those who are good, I treat as good; those who are not good, I also treat as good—thus virtue is good. Those who are trustworthy, I trust; those who are not trustworthy, I also trust—thus virtue is trustworthy. The sage in the world is cautious and apprehensive, and for the sake of the world he keeps his mind undifferentiated. The common people all fix their eyes and ears upon him, and the sage treats them all as children.
Chapter 50
Coming forth is life; going in is death. The companions of life are three in ten; the companions of death are three in ten; and those who, in living, move toward the place of death are also three in ten. Why is this? Because they cling too hard to life. I have heard that one who is good at preserving life travels by land without meeting rhinoceroses or tigers, and enters battle without being touched by weapons. The rhinoceros finds nowhere to thrust its horn, the tiger finds nowhere to fix its claws, and weapons find nowhere to lodge their blades. Why is this? Because he has no place of death.
Chapter 51
The Tao gives birth to them, virtue nourishes them, matter gives them form, and circumstance completes them. Therefore among the myriad things there is none that does not revere the Tao and honor virtue. The reverence of the Tao and the honor of virtue are not conferred by any decree; they are constantly so of themselves. Therefore the Tao gives birth to them and virtue nourishes them; it raises them and rears them, completes them and matures them, nurtures them and shelters them. It gives birth without possessing, acts without relying on it, and leads without ruling. This is called mysterious virtue.
Chapter 52
The world has a beginning, which may be regarded as the mother of the world. Having known the mother, one also knows the children. Having known the children, one returns to keep to the mother, and to the end of one's life one is free from danger. Block the openings, shut the doors, and to the end of one's life one will not be exhausted. Open the openings, meddle in affairs, and to the end of one's life one cannot be saved. Seeing the small is called illumination; keeping to the soft is called strength. Use the light, return again to illumination, and leave no calamity for one's person. This is called practicing the constant.
Chapter 53
If I had even the slightest knowledge, walking on the Great Tao, the only thing I would fear is going astray. The Great Tao is very level, yet the people love bypaths. The court is very splendid, while the fields are overgrown with weeds and the granaries are empty; yet they wear embroidered clothes, carry sharp swords, are sated with food and drink, and have wealth and goods to spare. This is called the boasting of robbers. The boasting of robbers is surely not the Tao!
Chapter 54
What is well established cannot be uprooted; what is well embraced cannot slip away; and one's descendants will offer sacrifices without cease. Cultivate it in your person, and its virtue will be genuine; cultivate it in the family, and its virtue will be abundant; cultivate it in the village, and its virtue will last long; cultivate it in the state, and its virtue will flourish; cultivate it in the world, and its virtue will be universal. Therefore view the person through the person, the family through the family, the village through the village, the state through the state, and the world through the world. How do I know that the world is so? By this.
Chapter 55
One who holds virtue in abundance is like a newborn babe. Poisonous insects do not sting it, fierce beasts do not seize it, and birds of prey do not strike it. Its bones are weak and its sinews soft, yet its grip is firm. It does not yet know the union of male and female, yet its organ stirs—this is the height of essence. It cries all day without becoming hoarse—this is the height of harmony. Knowing harmony is called the constant; knowing the constant is called illumination. Forcing the increase of life is called ill-omened; letting the mind drive the qi is called forcing. When things reach their prime they grow old; this is called going against the Tao, and what goes against the Tao soon comes to an end.
Chapter 56
One who knows does not speak; one who speaks does not know. Block the openings, shut the doors, blunt the sharp, untie the tangled, soften the glare, merge with the dust—this is called mysterious sameness. Therefore one cannot draw close to such a person, nor keep him at a distance; one cannot benefit him, nor harm him; one cannot ennoble him, nor debase him. Therefore he is the most honored in the world.
Chapter 57
Govern the state with the upright; use arms with the unexpected; win the world by having no affairs. How do I know that it is so? By this: the more prohibitions and taboos there are in the world, the poorer the people become; the more sharp instruments the people have, the more benighted the state becomes; the more skill and cunning people have, the more strange things arise; the more laws and ordinances are proclaimed, the more thieves and robbers there are. Therefore the sage says: I take no action, and the people transform themselves; I love stillness, and the people set themselves right; I have no affairs, and the people enrich themselves; I have no desires, and the people become simple of themselves; I have no passions, and the people become pure of themselves.
Chapter 58
When the government is dull and muted, the people are simple and honest; when the government is sharp and scrutinizing, the people are cunning and discontented. Misfortune—it is what fortune leans on; fortune—it is what misfortune hides within. Who knows where it ends? There is no fixed standard. The upright turns again into the deceitful, and the good turns again into the monstrous. People have been deluded for a very long time indeed. Therefore the sage is square but does not cut, sharp-edged but does not wound, straight but not unrestrained, bright but not dazzling.
Chapter 59
In governing people and serving heaven, nothing is better than frugality. Only through frugality can one submit early. Submitting early is called accumulating virtue again and again. Accumulating virtue again and again, there is nothing one cannot overcome. When there is nothing one cannot overcome, no one knows one's limit. When no one knows one's limit, one can possess the state. Possessing the mother of the state, one can long endure. This is called deep roots and a firm stem, the Tao of long life and lasting vision.
Chapter 60
Governing a great state is like cooking a small fish. When the world is overseen with the Tao, its ghosts have no spiritual power. It is not that the ghosts have no spiritual power, but that their power does not harm people; it is not only that their power does not harm people, but that the sage also does not harm people. Since the two do not harm each other, their virtue flows together and returns to the people.