Laozi said: "There is a thing that was formed in confusion, existing before heaven and earth were born. It has form but no shape, being deep and obscure, quiet and empty, without sound or echo. I will force myself to name it; its designation is Dao." Dao is so high that it cannot be measured to its peak, and so deep that it cannot be fathomed. It encompasses heaven and earth, receives the formless, originates from a source flowing endlessly, surging yet never full. Though turbid, when stillness is applied, it gradually becomes clear. Its application is boundless; it knows no morning or evening. When measured, it does not fill even one handful. It is restrained yet can expand, obscure yet can become bright, soft yet can become firm. It contains yin and emits yang, thus manifesting the three luminaries: Mountains are thus high, abysses thus deep; beasts move because of it, birds fly because of it; qilin swim because of it, phoenixes soar because of it; stars and constellations travel because of it. By nonexistence one attains existence, by humility one attains honor, by retreating one attains precedence. In ancient times the Three Huangs attained the principle of Dao, established themselves in the center, and traveled with spirits and transformations to pacify the four quarters. Therefore, they could follow the movement of heaven and the stability of earth, rotating without failure; water flowed ceaselessly, accompanying all things from beginning to end. Winds arose and clouds gathered; thunder roared and rain fell, all responding endlessly. After carving and polishing, they returned to simplicity. By nonaction one acts in accordance with life and death; by nonaction in speech, one communicates the Dao. By tranquility and joy without pride, one attains harmony. Though there are myriad differences, all find convenience in life. Harmonizing yin and yang, regulating the four seasons, adjusting the five elements, nourishing grasses and trees, moistening metal and stone—birds and beasts grow strong; even the smallest hairs are well-nourished. Bird eggs do not fail, animal fetuses do not miscarry. Fathers have no sorrow of losing children, brothers no grief from mourning a sibling. Children are not orphaned, women not widowed. Rainbows and serpentine clouds disappear, thieves and bandits cease to act—this is the result of containing virtue. The great constant Dao gives birth to all things without claiming them, completes transformations without dominating; all beings rely on it for life, yet none know its virtue. They depend on it for death, yet cannot blame it. It stores and accumulates without becoming richer, bestows and receives without becoming poorer. Fleeting and hazy, it cannot be shaped into an image; hazy and fleeting, its use is never exhausted. Deep and obscure, it responds to transformation without form; thus it flows through all things, acting not in vain. It coils and unfolds with rigidity and softness, bows and rises with yin and yang.

Laozi said: A great man remains tranquil and free of thought, carefree and without worry. He takes heaven as his canopy, the earth as his carriage, the four seasons as his steeds, yin and yang as his charioteer. He walks where there is no path, roams without fatigue, and emerges through a gate that does not exist. Taking heaven as a canopy means nothing is left uncovered; taking the earth as a carriage means nothing cannot be borne. Taking the four seasons as steeds means no one cannot be served; yin and yang guiding them mean all things are fully prepared. Therefore, one moves swiftly without trembling, travels far without fatigue. The limbs remain still; the wisdom remains undiminished, yet it illuminates all under heaven. This is grasping the essence of Dao and observing the boundless realm. Therefore, affairs in all under heaven cannot be controlled; one must follow their nature and guide them accordingly. Transformations of myriad things cannot be salvaged; one must grasp the essentials and return to them. Therefore, the sage cultivates internally the root without embellishing externally the branches; he sharpens his spirit and restrains his knowledge and perceptions. Thus, he remains indifferent and nonactional yet accomplishes all things; he governs nothing yet everything is governed. What is meant by "nonaction" is not acting before the circumstances arise. What is meant by "not governing" is not altering what is natural. What is meant by "nothing left ungoverned" is acting in accordance with the inherent nature of things.

Laozi said: He who holds to Dao to govern the people follows events as they arise and acts in accordance with things as they move; Transformations of all things find no lack of response, changes in myriad affairs meet no absence of pairing. Therefore, Dao is empty and formless, level and simple, quiet and still, soft and weak, pure and unadorned. These five qualities are the manifestations of Dao. Emptiness and formlessness is where Dao resides; levelness and simplicity are the nature of Dao; quietness and stillness are the mirror of Dao; softness and weakness are the functions of Dao. Reversal is the constant of Dao; the soft is the firmness of Dao; the weak is the strength of Dao. Purity and simplicity are the trunk of Dao. Emptiness means the mind holds nothing; levelness means the heart is free from burdens. When desires and cravings do not arise, this is ultimate emptiness; when there are no preferences or aversions, this is ultimate levelness. Remaining one without change is ultimate stillness; not mixing with external things is ultimate purity. Neither sorrow nor joy—this is the highest virtue. The sage who governs abandons his wisdom and intelligence, suppresses literary ornamentation, relies on Dao rather than knowledge, and emerges with the people in accordance with impartiality. He narrows what he guards, reduces his desires, removes temptations and longings, eliminates costly cravings, and discards thoughts and concerns. Narrowing what one guards leads to clarity; reducing desires ensures attainment. Therefore, governing from within outwardly ensures no affairs are neglected. If the inner self is mastered, then external matters can be managed. When one attains mastery within, the five organs are at peace, thoughts and concerns are balanced, sinews and bones become strong, and ears and eyes become sharp and discerning. The great Dao is broad and level; it does not distance itself from the body. Those who seek it afar will go forth only to return again.

Laozi said: The sage forgets about governing others and focuses instead on self-governance. He values forgetting power and rank, focusing instead on personal fulfillment. When one attains self-fulfillment, all under heaven will attain me; He finds joy in forgetting wealth and rank, focusing instead on harmony. Knowing that the self is great while the world is small—this approaches Dao. Therefore it is said: "To attain utmost emptiness, to hold stillness with sincerity—amidst the myriad things in motion, I observe their return." Dao refines and shapes all things, beginning and ending without form. It remains silent and unmoving, fully connected yet obscurely profound. Vast and boundless, it has no outer limits; minute beyond the tiniest division, it has no inner boundary. Without walls or enclosure, it exists between being and nonbeing. The True Person embodies emptiness and formlessness, levelness and simplicity, quietness and stillness, softness and weakness, purity and simplicity. Not mixing with external things, he attains the highest virtue in accordance with the Dao of heaven and earth; thus he is called a True Person. The True Person regards the self as great and the world as small; he values cultivating himself over governing others. He does not let external things disturb his harmony, nor allow desires to disrupt his emotions. He conceals his name and surname—when virtue prevails, he hides; when it declines, he appears. He acts through nonaction, deals with affairs as if there are none, knows without claiming knowledge. He carries the Dao of heaven within him, embraces the mind of heaven, draws in yin and yang, exhales the old to take in the new. He closes with yin, opens with yang; coils and unfolds with rigidity and flexibility; bows and rises with yin and Yang. His heart is united with heaven, his body one with Dao. He feels no joy, no sorrow, no happiness, no anger; all things are mysteriously one—nothing is wrong or right. When the body suffers from the harshness of cold, heat, dryness, and dampness, the form is exhausted and the spirit becomes blocked. When the spirit is harmed by afflictions such as joy, anger, thought, and worry, the spirit perishes while the physical form remains. Therefore, the True Person uses his mind by supporting nature and relying on spirit; they support each other to attain beginning and end. Thus, when he sleeps, he has no dreams, and upon waking, feels no worry. Confucius asked about the Dao. Laozi said: Straighten your form, fix your gaze—then heavenly harmony will arrive; Control your knowledge, regulate your measure—the spirit will dwell within you. Virtue will become your vessel, and Dao will take up residence in you. Your pupils should be like those of a newborn calf, unburdened by past concerns; your form should resemble withered wood, and your mind ashes of the dead. Truly knowing reality without clinging to artificial causes or justifications—vast and open-hearted, beyond scheming—"When one is clear and all-pervading, can he still be said to possess knowledge?"

Laozi said: Affairs arise from life; one responds and acts according to change. Change arises with the times, and there is no fixed way of conduct. Therefore, "The Dao that can be spoken of is not the eternal Dao; the name that can be named is not the eternal name." Writings arise from words, and words come from wisdom. Yet he who possesses wisdom does not know—this is not the eternal Dao; The name that can be named is thus not something to be found in books. "Much learning leads only to exhaustion; it is better to hold to the center." "Abandoning scholarship brings no worries." "Reject sages and abandon wisdom, and the people will benefit a hundredfold." Human beings are born quiet—this is the nature of heaven; Being moved by external things is a harm to one's nature. When things arrive and are responded to, this is the movement of wisdom; Wisdom interacts with external objects, and thus preferences and aversions arise. When preferences and aversions take form, wisdom becomes startled by externals, unable to return inward—thus the principle of heaven is extinguished. Therefore, the sage does not substitute human will for heaven. Externally, he transforms with things but internally remains unshaken in emotion. Thus, one who understands Dao returns to quietness and stillness; one who is empty of external concerns ultimately attains nonaction. By tranquility one nurtures wisdom, by emptiness one unites with the spirit—thus reaching boundlessness. He who follows heaven travels with Dao; he who follows people interacts with convention; Therefore, the sage does not let affairs disturb heaven's will, nor allow desires to disorder emotions. He acts appropriately without planning, is trusted without speaking, attains success without deliberation, and accomplishes things without effort. Therefore, when he is in a high position, the people do not feel burdened; when he leads, others do not resent him. All under heaven return to him, and evildoers fear him—because he contends with nothing among all things, thus none dare contend with him.

Laozi said: When people follow their desires, they lose their nature; their actions are never upright. To govern a state with such an approach leads to chaos; to cultivate the self in this way results in corruption. Therefore, those who have not heard of Dao cannot return to their true nature; those who do not understand things cannot attain quietness and stillness. The original nature of human beings is free from evil or corruption; yet prolonged immersion in external things causes transformation. When this transformation leads to forgetting one's root, it aligns with what appears as nature. The nature of water is to be clear; sand and stones defile it; The nature of human beings desires tranquility, yet cravings and desires harm it. Only the sage can transcend external things and return to himself. Therefore, the sage does not use wisdom to dominate things, nor allow desires to disturb harmony. His joy is not exuberant; his sorrow is not wistful. Thus, though lofty, he is not in danger; though at ease, he does not fall into decline. Therefore, to listen to wise words and convenient plans, even the foolish know they are pleasing; To praise great virtue and lofty conduct, even those of poor character know they should admire it; Though many find these things pleasing, few put them into practice; though many admire virtue, few act upon it. The reason is that they are bound by external concerns and shackled by convention. Therefore it is said: "I practice nonaction and the people transform themselves; I have no affairs and the people enrich themselves; I love stillness and the people become upright; I possess no desires and the people return to simplicity." Stillness and quiet are the highest virtue; softness and weakness are Dao's function. Emptiness and formlessness, though intangible, are great in essence—formless things are numerous while those with form are few; formless things are strong while those with form are weak; formless things are substantial while those with form are hollow. Things with form complete affairs; things without form initiate them. Completing affairs produces vessels; initiating is the state of simplicity. When there is form, there is sound; when there is no form, there is no sound. Form arises from the formless; therefore, the formless is the beginning of all that has form. Vast and profound, it bears a name—those who possess a name value wholeness; Frugality and simplicity bear no name—those without names are regarded as lowly and light in worth. Prosperity and wealth bring a name; those with a name receive honor and favor; Poverty and few possessions mean no name; those without names are lowly and weak. Males and females have names—those with names are clear and distinct; Females and passive counterparts have no name—those without a name remain obscure and indistinct. Those with abundance possess names; those with names are esteemed as virtuous and exalted; Those lacking have no name; those without a name accept lowly positions. Those with merit possess a name; those without merit have no name. Names arise from the unnamed, and the unnamed is the source of names. The Dao of heaven: being and nonbeing give rise to each other; difficulty and ease complete one another. Therefore, the sage holds to Dao, remaining empty and still, subtle and refined, thus perfecting his virtue. Therefore, having Dao means possessing virtue; having virtue brings merit; having merit earns a name; having a name returns one to Dao. When merit and fame endure for life, there is no blame. Rulers and nobles possess merit and fame; orphans and widows lack them. Hence it is said that the sage refers to himself as an orphan or widow, returning to his fundamental root. When merit is achieved without claiming ownership, thus merit becomes a benefit, and anonymity becomes its use. In ancient times, the people were innocent and unaware of directions; their appearances did not separate from their true nature, their words did not exceed their actions, their conduct was unadorned, and their speech lacked ornamentation. Their clothing was simple, and those whose spiritual virtue was incomplete within themselves could not fathom how far they might be harmed. When the mind forgets harmful desires, even a hungry tiger can be followed closely—how much more so with regard to people? Those who embody Dao remain free and untroubled, while those who rely on methods grow weary without success. Laws that impose strict punishments are not the work of emperors; frequent use of whips and reins is not a way to guide far. Excessive likes and dislikes bring misfortune in their wake. Therefore, the laws of ancient kings were not created by them but followed from nature; their prohibitions and punishments were not actions they took but things they maintained. Thus, those who follow Dao achieve greatness, while those who create fall into triviality; those who maintain remain firm, while those who act bring failure. He who relies on ears and eyes for listening and seeing exhausts his mind without clarity; he who governs by wisdom and thought labors in vain with no success. To rely solely on the talents of one person is difficult to achieve good governance, and even the ability of a single individual is insufficient to manage three mu of land. Following the principles and patterns of Dao, acting in accordance with heaven and earth's natural order—then even the 六合 (six directions) cannot be evenly balanced. When ears are misled by false praise and eyes indulge in beautiful women, rituals and propriety are insufficient to restrain love; only sincerity can win distant hearts. Therefore, nothing is more cruel than a determined will; weapons like 鏌铮 are of lesser concern. Nothing surpasses yin and yang in magnitude, while drums and war-drums are trivial matters. The great bandits lie hidden with corpses without speaking of righteousness; medium bandits hide in the mountains; small bandits flee into the populace. Therefore it is said: When the people possess much wisdom and knowledge, strange things arise; when laws and decrees multiply, thieves and bandits increase. Abandoning that and choosing this, calamities from heaven will not arise. Therefore, to govern a state by wisdom is to become its thief; not to govern with wisdom is the virtue of the state. Joy is the origin of all things. When these three principles are practiced, they dissolve into invisibility. Formless means unity; unity means a mind without self-interest that harmonizes with all under heaven. $$ Spreading virtue without irrigation, using it without effort; seeing it but not perceiving, hearing it but not discerning. From the formless arises form; from silence arise the five tones; from no taste arise the five flavors; from no color arise the five colors. Therefore, being arises from nonbeing, and substance from emptiness. $$ The number of tones does not exceed five, yet the transformations of the five tones are beyond what can be heard. The number of flavors does not exceed five, yet their variations cannot be fully tasted. The number of colors does not exceed five, yet changes in the five colors surpass what can be observed. Tones arise when the palace tone is established, thus forming the five tones. Flavors are determined when sweetness is set as the foundation, thus fixing the five flavors. Colors are completed when white is established, thus creating the five colors. Dao gives rise to all things when unity is established. Therefore, the principle of unity extends to all four seas; its grandeur is evident throughout heaven and earth. In wholeness, it is solid and simple as uncarved wood; in dispersion, it is confused like turbidity. Though turbid, it gradually becomes clear; though empty, it slowly fills. It is calm as the great sea, drifting like floating clouds—seeming non-existent yet present, appearing lost yet existing.

Laozi said: The total of all things passes through one aperture; the root of all affairs originates from one gate. Therefore, the sage follows a single measure and adheres to established paths, not altering what has been done before or changing what is constant. He sets standards and follows guidelines, bending only in accordance with nature's regular course. Joy and anger are deviations from Dao; Sorrow and grief are losses of virtue. Preferences and aversions are excesses of the mind; Cravings and desires are burdens upon life. Great anger harms yin; great joy exhausts yang. Weak breath causes muteness; sudden fear leads to madness. Sorrow and grief burn the heart, and illness accumulates as a result. If one can eliminate these five afflictions, he will harmonize with the divine and the sage-like. Those who attain the divine and sage-like have mastered their inner self. To master one's inner self means the five organs are at peace; thoughts and concerns remain balanced; ears and eyes become keen and discerning; sinews and bones grow strong and resilient. One becomes open and unobstructed without contradiction, firm yet never depleted—neither excessive in any aspect nor lacking in anything. Nothing in the world is more soft and weak than water, yet water embodies Dao. Its breadth cannot be measured; its depth cannot be fathomed. It extends endlessly without limit, flows far beyond all horizons. Its ebb and flow increase or decrease without end, surpassing all estimation. In the heavens it becomes rain and dew; on earth it provides moisture and nourishment. All things must depend upon it to grow, and all affairs must rely upon it to succeed. It embraces all living beings with no partiality, bestows its grace even upon crawling creatures without seeking reward. It enriches the world endlessly without depletion, benefits the people without cost. Its movement cannot be exhausted or fully understood; its subtlety cannot be grasped or held. Striking it causes no wound, piercing it inflicts no injury, cutting it does not sever, burning it produces no smoke. Though soft and flowing, it remains unbroken and undispersed. It cuts through metal and stone, submerges the world with strength, is neither in excess nor lacking, allows all to take from or give to it freely. It receives all things without preference or sequence, showing neither partiality nor favor, uniting with heaven and earth as one vast whole—this is called the highest virtue. Water is able to achieve its highest virtue precisely because of its softness and smoothness. Hence it is said: "The most yielding in the world can prevail over the hardest; nothing enters where there is no space." The formless is the great ancestor of all things; the soundless is the supreme source of all categories. The true person communicates with the spiritual hall, becoming one with the creators and transformers of existence. Holding the profound virtue within his heart, he transforms and moves as if by divine power. Therefore, the Way that is not a way is vast and boundless indeed; without issuing proclamations or commands, it can transform customs and change the prevailing winds—this is achieved solely through the practice of the heart. All things have their origin, yet alone they return to their roots; all affairs have their source, yet alone they remain at the gate. Thus, one can fathom the infinite and reach the boundless, illuminate objects without becoming dazzled, respond like an echo without knowing it.

Laozi said: He who attains the Dao has a weak will but strong actions, and a mind that is empty yet responsive. One with a weak will is gentle, soft, and quiet; he conceals himself without seeking to take, acts within his inability, remains calm and non-actional, yet moves in accordance with the right time. Therefore it is said: "The noble must take the humble as its foundation; the high must regard the low as its base." By entrusting the small to contain the great, and by being within to control without, one acts with gentleness yet achieves rigidity. With such strength, no foe is unconquered, no enemy unovercome. Responding to transformation and measuring the time, none can harm him. He who desires rigidity must guard it with gentleness; he who seeks strength must preserve it with weakness. Accumulated gentleness becomes rigidity, and accumulated weakness becomes strength. By observing what is accumulated, one can discern life or death. Strength that overcomes others who are not as strong will meet resistance when facing an equal; gentleness that surpasses even those stronger than oneself has power beyond measure. Therefore it is said: "When arms grow too strong, they perish; when trees grow too rigid, they break." When something becomes overly strong, it splits; teeth are harder than the tongue yet break first. Therefore it is said: "Gentleness and weakness are the essence of life, while rigidity and strength belong to death." He who takes the initiative first walks a path that leads to exhaustion; he who acts later returns to the source of success. He who holds fast to the Dao and couples with change—whether acting first or last, he controls both. Thus, he never loses the means to control others, nor can others control him. What is meant by acting later is to adjust the measure and align with the right time. The transformation of time allows no room for breath—acting too soon is excessive, while acting too late falls short. Days turn into months; time does not linger with people. Therefore, sages value not a jade disk a chi in diameter but even an inch of shadow, for time is hard to gain and easily lost. Therefore, the sage acts in accordance with time and undertakes affairs based on available resources; he establishes achievements by relying upon his means. He upholds purity, restrains himself in humility, follows circumstances while responding to change, always acting later rather than first. With gentleness and stillness, with calmness and deliberation, he attains stability—no matter how strong or firm an opponent may be, none can contend with him.

Laozi said: When the mind of craft and artifice is hidden within, then pure whiteness becomes impure. Their clothing is warm but without color; their weapons are dull and without sharp edges; they walk unsteadily. They see dimly, stand by the well to drink, till fields for food; they do not give alms nor seek virtue. High and low do not compete, long and short do not compare. Customs are uniform, so they can follow easily; affairs are within ability, so they are easy to manage. To pretend dignity in order to deceive the world, or to act strangely to confuse the people—this is not considered a proper custom by the sage.