Laozi said: In cultivating one's body, the highest priority is to nourish the spirit; next comes nurturing the physical form. When the spirit is clear and the mind peaceful, all parts of the body find tranquility—this is the essence of preserving life. To fatten the muscles, fill the belly, and satisfy desires is merely the superficial aspect of preserving life. In governing a state, the highest priority is to cultivate moral influence; next comes upholding just laws. When people voluntarily yield and take lowly positions in disputes over wealth and profit, when they strive for hard work rather than ease, and when daily conduct gradually becomes virtuous without their even realizing why—this constitutes the essence of good governance. To encourage virtue through rewards and to deter wrongdoing by fear of punishment, with just laws enforced from above and the people obeying below—is merely the superficial aspect of governance. In earlier times, rulers cultivated the essential; in later times, they dealt only with the surface.

Laozi said: A ruler who desires good governance does not appear in every generation, and a minister capable of assisting in such governance is even rarer—one in ten thousand. To seek the rare with the already scarce is why ideal governance occurs only once in a millennium. The achievements of hegemonic or imperial rulers are not established in every generation. By following their good intentions, guarding against evil thoughts, and proceeding together with the people along one righteous path, the people can become virtuous and customs can be made beautiful. What is valued about a sage ruler is not that he creates punishments in response to crimes, but rather that he understands the origins of disorder. If one allows the sharp edge of harmful tendencies to develop, indulges people in licentiousness and depravity, abandons them to the law, and follows up with punishment, even if one becomes a cruel tyrant ruling over all under heaven, he will still be unable to prevent their wickedness.

Laozi said: When one's body is situated by the rivers and seas, but one's heart dwells beneath the palace gates of Wei, then life becomes precious; when life is cherished, material gains become light in value. If one is still unable to overcome oneself, then one should follow along; in this way, the spirit suffers no harm. But if one cannot conquer oneself yet forcefully resists, it is called a serious injury. A person with such a serious inner wound will have no longevity. Therefore it is said: To know harmony is to understand the constant; to understand the constant is to be enlightened. To seek excessive life is an omen of misfortune; to let the mind dominate the breath is called strength. This is known as profound unity. Employ its light, and return to clarity.

Laozi said: Throughout the world, nothing is easier than doing good; nothing is more difficult than doing evil. What is meant by "doing good" is to remain tranquil and take no action, to regulate one's emotions and reject excess, to be free from temptation, to follow nature and preserve authenticity, and to remain unchanged within oneself. Therefore it is said that doing good is easy. What is meant by "doing evil being difficult" is that acts such as usurpation, regicide, deceit, and pretense—being restless and filled with desires—are contrary to human nature. Therefore it is said that doing evil is difficult. What people today consider the greatest source of suffering arises from lacking constancy and becoming dissatisfied with measured limits. Therefore, in matters involving benefit or harm, at the threshold between misfortune and fortune, one cannot afford to be careless. A sage has no desires, and nothing to avoid. When one desires something, it is precisely what leads to its loss; when one avoids something, it is exactly what brings it about. If the will is set upon a desire, one forgets the original purpose. Therefore, a sage carefully examines changes between action and stillness, and appropriately accepts or refrains according to measure. He regulates feelings of preference and aversion, and harmonizes the rhythms of joy and anger. When action and stillness are properly balanced, misfortune does not intrude. When acceptance and restraint are appropriately measured, guilt does not accumulate. When preferences and aversions are regulated, sorrow does not approach. When joy and anger are harmonized, resentment does not arise. A person who embodies the Dao does not recklessly seek gain, nor does he shun misfortune. What he possesses, he does not discard; what is not his, he does not pursue. His virtue remains full without overflowing, and his mind stays empty yet easily sustained. Therefore, when one appropriately measures and regulates according to the Way and its methods, food is sufficient to fill hunger, clothing enough to ward off cold, and this suffices for warmth and sustenance of the seven-foot body. But without the Way and its principles as a measure, if one seeks personal honor and nobility, even the power of ten thousand chariots cannot bring satisfaction, nor can the wealth of all under heaven bring joy. Thus, a sage maintains an even mind and simple aspirations, with spirit and energy preserved internally, and external things cannot bewilder him.

Laozi said: He who conquers others has strength; he who conquers himself is truly strong. One who is truly strong must be able to employ the strength of others; one who can employ the strength of others must have won the hearts of people; one who has won the hearts of people must first have achieved self-mastery. There has never been a case where someone gained himself but lost others, nor has there ever been a case where someone lost himself yet gained others. Therefore, the foundation of good governance lies in ensuring people's peace; the foundation of people's peace lies in sufficient resources; the foundation of sufficient resources lies in not seizing farming seasons; the foundation of preserving the seasons lies in reducing affairs; the foundation of reducing affairs lies in frugality; the foundation of frugality lies in eliminating arrogance; and the foundation of eliminating arrogance lies in emptiness and non-action. Thus, one who understands the true nature of life does not strive for things that cannot be achieved through life itself; one who understands the essence of fate does not worry about matters over which destiny has no control. The eyes delight in the five colors, the mouth craves flavors, the ears indulge in the five sounds; the seven orifices vie with one another and thus harm the single nature. Each day they draw forth perverse desires that exhaust the natural harmony of the body. If one cannot even govern oneself, how can one hope to rule the world? To "gain the world" does not mean merely occupying a position of power or bearing a title of honor; it means winning the hearts and strength of all under heaven. One who holds the name of sovereign but earns no praise from even a single person has truly lost the world. Therefore, Jie and Zhou were not true kings, and Tang and Wu were not truly rebels. When the world follows the Dao, defense lies in protecting the four frontiers; when it strays from the Dao, protection is entrusted to the feudal lords. If a feudal lord follows the Dao, his defense lies within his own borders; if he abandons the Dao, then even those at his side cannot protect him. Therefore it is said: Do not rely on others not taking from you, but rely on the fact that nothing can be taken from you. To follow a path that makes one vulnerable to being deprived, while avoiding acts of usurpation or regicide, will still bring no benefit in holding onto the world.

Laozi said: A good ruler of a state does not alter what has long been established, nor change what is constant. Anger is a violation of virtue; weapons are instruments of misfortune. Strife is the source of human disorder. To resort to secret plots and violate virtue, to favor the use of instruments of destruction in managing people's conflicts—this is the utmost form of inversion. Unless one seeks to bring misfortune upon others, one cannot become a source of disaster. Therefore, it is better to blunt sharpness, resolve entanglements, harmonize brightness, and blend with the dust. Human nature and disposition are such that people wish to be considered virtuous themselves while resenting others who surpass them. When one wishes to appear more virtuous, a spirit of competition arises; when one resents not being as accomplished as others, resentment and contention emerge. Where resentment and contention arise, the mind becomes unsettled and the breath disrupted. Therefore, ancient sage-kings worked to eliminate rivalry and resentment. When rivalry and resentment do not arise, the mind remains orderly and the breath flows smoothly. Hence it is said: "Do not exalt the virtuous, so that the people will not compete."

Laozi said: To govern things, one does not do so through the things themselves but through harmony. To govern harmony, one does not rely on harmony itself but on people. To govern people, one does not act upon people directly but through the ruler. To govern the ruler, one does not control the ruler directly but regulates his desires. To govern desires, one does not manage them directly but aligns with nature. To cultivate nature, one does not manipulate it directly but nurtures virtue. To nurture virtue, one does not impose it upon virtue itself but follows the Dao. By aligning with the Dao and returning to one's nature, there is no deviation or corruption. But if one remains immersed in worldly matters for too long, one forgets one's original nature and thus merges with external influences. Clothing, food, rites, and customs are not inherent to human nature; they are acquired from the outside. Therefore, by nature, human desires seek balance, but excessive cravings harm this state. Only those who follow the Dao can transcend material concerns and return to themselves. If one has a means of self-reflection, then one does not lose sight of the true nature of things; if one lacks such reflection, then actions become confused and driven by distractions. To indulge desires is to lose one's nature; actions are never upright. To govern life in this way leads to the loss of self, and to govern a state in this manner brings disorder to the people. Therefore, those who have not heard of the Dao lack the means to return to their true nature. In ancient times, sage rulers cultivated themselves internally; thus their commands were obeyed and prohibitions respected. Whoever undertakes any endeavor must first calm the mind and purify the spirit. When the spirit is pure and the will tranquil, then all things can be properly ordered. To lose one's judgment to praise or blame, and for the eyes to indulge in colorful distractions—under such conditions, it is difficult indeed to achieve proper governance. Therefore, emptiness (wu) is valued. Therefore, when water is agitated, waves arise; when the breath is disturbed, wisdom becomes clouded. Clouded wisdom cannot bring clarity, and turbulent water cannot be level. Thus, sage kings adhered to unity (the One), using it to regulate the nature and disposition of all things. The "One" is the most precious, with no equal under heaven; sage kings relied upon this non-competitive unity, and thus became the source of order for all under heaven.

Laozi said: Yin and Yang refine and shape all things; they all arise by riding upon a single breath of qi. When those above and below are disunited in heart, the breath ascends in disorder; when ruler and minister are not harmonious, the five grains fail to ripen. When spring is severe and autumn flourishing, or winter thunders while summer brings frost—these are all manifestations of harmful qi arising from disharmony. Between heaven and earth lies the body of one person; within the six directions is the form of a single individual. Therefore, he who understands human nature cannot be intimidated by heaven and earth; he who discerns omens cannot be deceived by strange phenomena. A sage understands the distant through what is near, regarding ten thousand li as one unity. Breath rises between heaven and earth; when rites, righteousness, integrity, and shame are not established, all the people inevitably harm and oppress one another, existing in a state of confusion and obscurity. When integrity and shame decline, and when the world falls into decay, harms multiply while resources dwindle; labor becomes burdensome yet sustenance is insufficient. The people grow poor and distressed, giving rise to resentment and contention—thus benevolence (ren) is valued. When people are contemptuous and unequal, forming cliques and factions, each promoting their allies while harboring cunning and deceitful minds—thus righteousness (yi) is valued. When men and women live together in groups without distinction, thus rites (li) are valued. The nature of life and fate, when indulged and forced by unavoidable circumstances, leads to disharmony; thus music (yue) is valued. Therefore, benevolence, righteousness, rites, and music are means to remedy decline—they are not the fundamental ways to achieve lasting order. If one can truly bring clarity and harmony to the world, and return the mind to its original state, then human nature will be virtuous. When human nature is virtuous, heaven and earth, yin and yang, will follow in harmony and encompass all things; thus resources will be sufficient and people well-provided for, and thoughts of greed, baseness, resentment, and contention will not arise. When benevolence and righteousness do not cause harm, and virtue and the Dao are established throughout the world, then the people will not indulge in colors and distractions. Therefore, only when virtue declines does one resort to emphasizing benevolence and righteousness; only when harmony is lost does one seek to regulate sound; and only when rites become excessive does one focus on outward appearances. Therefore, he who understands virtue and the Dao then knows that benevolence and righteousness are insufficient to govern; he who understands benevolence and righteousness then knows that rites and music are inadequate for cultivation.

Laozi said: The governance of tranquility and stillness is harmonious, smooth, and quiet; it is sincere, genuine, and simple. It remains calm and undisturbed, not restless within, aligning with the Dao internally and conforming to righteousness externally. Its words are concise yet follow reason; its actions are pleasing yet in harmony with human nature. Its mind is peaceful without pretense; its deeds are plain and unadorned. It does not plan where it begins, nor discuss where it ends. When at peace, it remains; when stirred, it moves. It is fully integrated with heaven and earth, unified with yin and yang, in harmony with the four seasons, clear as the sun and moon. One who transforms along with the Dao becomes a person free from scheming, artifice, or deceit dwelling within the heart. Therefore, heaven covers all with virtue, and earth supports all through music; the four seasons do not lose their order, winds and rains do not become destructive. The sun and moon remain tranquil while radiating light, and the Five Stars do not deviate from their courses—this is what clarity and stillness make evident.

Laozi said: The duties of a well-governed age are easy to uphold; its tasks are simple to perform, its rites easy to practice, and its responsibilities easy to reward. Therefore, people do not hold multiple offices, and officials do not oversee more than they can manage. Scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants each have their distinct roles; villages differ from one another, and regions vary accordingly. Thus, farmers speak with other farmers about storage, scholars discuss conduct with fellow scholars, artisans exchange knowledge of skill with other artisans, and merchants talk of calculation with other merchants. Therefore, scholars have no unvirtuous conduct, artisans face no burdensome tasks, farmers achieve no wasted labor, and merchants suffer no losses in trade—each finds peace according to their nature. Though differing in form and category, people engage in different tasks without contradiction; those who lose their proper place fall into obscurity, while those who gain the right position rise to honor. Those with foresight and distant vision are endowed with great talent, yet in a well-ruled age, such qualities are not demanded of the people. Extensive knowledge, strong memory, eloquence, and ready speech—these overflow from human wisdom—but enlightened rulers do not seek these traits from their subjects. To disdain the world and hold material things lightly, to resist popular trends—this is an upright conduct among scholars; yet in a well-governed era, such behavior is not used as a model for transforming the people. Therefore, what is lofty and unattainable should not be set as a standard for people; conduct that cannot be emulated should not become the custom of the state. Thus, individual talents must not be relied upon exclusively, but principles, measurements, and methods of the Dao can be passed down through generations. Therefore, a well-ordered state can be maintained even by the unwise; military affairs can be conducted uniformly through law. One does not need to wait for the outstanding figures of past ages—people are naturally sufficient when one utilizes what they already possess. The laws of later ages set lofty standards yet fail to punish those who fall short; they impose heavy responsibilities yet the penalties are insufficient; they establish perilous tasks yet dare not punish those who falter. When the people are burdened by these three demands, they resort to feigning wisdom and deceiving their superiors, committing deviant acts and taking reckless paths. Even with severe laws and harsh punishments, such deceit cannot be prevented. When cornered, beasts attack; when desperate, birds peck; when pushed to extremes, people deceive—this is precisely what is meant.

Laozi said: The sound of thunder and lightning can be represented by bells and drums; the changes of wind and rain can be understood through musical scales. What is large enough to see can also be measured; what is bright enough to observe can also be obscured; sounds that can be heard can also be regulated; colors that can be discerned can also be distinguished. That which is supremely vast cannot be contained by heaven and earth; that which is supremely subtle cannot be perceived even by spirits. But when one establishes musical laws and calendars, distinguishes the five colors, differentiates clarity from turbidity, and discerns sweetness from bitterness—then simplicity dissolves into forms and functions. Establishing benevolence and righteousness, cultivating rites and music—thus virtue transforms into artifice. The people feign wisdom to startle the simple-minded, and devise deceptions to challenge their superiors. Though there are those in the world capable of maintaining order, none have yet achieved true governance. The more knowledge and cunning one possesses, the further virtue declines; therefore, the Perfect Man remains simple and uncorrupted, his nature undispersed. The governance of the Perfect Man is one of emptiness and stillness, free from distractions or desires. His mind dwells in harmony with spirit; his body aligns with nature. In stillness he embodies virtue; in action, he follows reason. He moves according to the natural Dao, proceeding only out of necessity. In quiet inaction, the world finds harmony; with a calm and desireless heart, the people return to simplicity. Without contention, resources are sufficient; those who seek do not obtain, and those who receive make no demands—virtue returns on its own, without anyone bestowing it. Silence that speaks, the path not spoken of—if one can grasp them as if they were connected, this is called the Celestial Treasury. To draw from it without depletion, to pour from it without exhaustion—none can know the source of its supply. This is called "Yao Guang." Yao Guang is the sustenance and nourishment for all things under heaven.

Laozi said: Heaven cherishes its essence; earth cherishes its levelness; human beings cherish their emotions. The essence of heaven is the sun, moon, stars, thunder, lightning, wind, and rain; the levelness of earth is water, fire, metal, wood, and soil; the emotions of humans are thought, reflection, intelligence, joy, and anger. Therefore, if one closes the four gates (the senses) and stops the five paths (desires), one merges with the Dao. Spirit and clarity dwell in formlessness; essence and breath return to authenticity. The eyes are bright yet not used for seeing, the ears are keen yet not employed for listening, the mouth is capable yet not used for speaking, the mind is clear and unobstructed yet does not engage in thought or reflection. One entrusts matters without action, possesses knowledge without pride, follows the true nature of life, and thus wisdom and past causes cannot bring harm. When essence resides in the eyes, vision becomes clear; when it dwells in the ears, hearing becomes sharp; when it lingers at the mouth, speech is appropriate; when it gathers in the heart, contemplation flows smoothly. Therefore, to close the four gates ensures a life free from misfortune. The four limbs and nine orifices neither die nor live—they exist in harmony. This is called the True Person (zhenren). The earth's production of wealth originates fundamentally from the Five Elements; a sage regulates these Five Elements, and thus governance remains orderly without disorder.

Laozi said: When measured on both sides, if there is no private bias in weight or lightness, then it can be called level. When tested internally and externally, if there is no personal preference for crookedness or straightness, then it can be considered upright. A ruler's application of law, free from private likes or dislikes, thus establishes legitimate authority. Virtue has nothing to establish, resentment nowhere to hide—this is the way of entrusting oneself to the Dao and aligning with human hearts. Therefore, in governing, one does not interfere with knowledge. Just as crooked water capsizes a boat and twisted wood breaks an axle, one should not blame the wood or stone nor accuse skill or clumsiness—this is because wisdom cannot be entrusted to such matters. Thus, when the Dao involves intellect, disorder arises; when virtue involves intention, danger follows; when the mind involves sight, confusion results. The scales, compasses, and rules—once established, they remain unchanged; constant in their nature, they do not deviate. Square in action yet unobstructed, once given form, they are passed down for ten thousand generations—this is the "non-action" that accomplishes all things. People say: A state may have a lost ruler, but the world does not lack the lost Dao; individuals may face hardship, yet principles remain universally accessible. Therefore, non-action (wu wei) is the essence of the Dao. To grasp the essence of the Dao enables one to respond infinitely; thus, one does not rely solely on the principles and calculations of the Dao but instead depends exclusively on personal ability—this leads only to eventual limitation. A ruler who does not leave his hall yet understands the world observes things through things and knows people through people. Therefore, whatever is undertaken with accumulated strength will meet no resistance; whatever is accomplished by the wisdom of many will achieve nothing that cannot be done. Among a thousand people, there is no shortage of food; among ten thousand, no wasted effort. Artisans do not engage in foreign skills, scholars do not hold multiple posts—each guards their own duty and cannot transfer to another. People are placed where they are suited, things find their proper rest—thus tools are not defective, and duties are not neglected. Responsibilities that are few are easy to fulfill; duties that are limited are simple to uphold; tasks that are light are readily encouraged. When those above manage with minimal demands, and those below emulate accomplishments within reach—thus, over time, there is no mutual weariness or dissatisfaction.

Laozi said: An emperor embodies Taiyi (the Supreme Unity); a king follows yin and yang; a hegemon adheres to the four seasons; a ruler employs the six musical laws. One who embodies Taiyi understands the relationship between heaven and earth, is clear on the order of virtue and the Dao; his wisdom shines as brightly as the sun and moon, and his spirit connects with all things. His actions and stillness harmonize with yin and yang; his anger and calm align with the four seasons. His coverage and nurturing are guided by the Dao, universally encompassing without partiality. Even the smallest crawling creatures and flying insects depend on virtue to live. Virtue flows beyond borders, and his reputation is passed down through future generations. One who follows yin and yang inherits the harmony of heaven and earth; his virtue is equal to that of heaven and earth. His brilliance shines alongside the sun and moon, his spirit resonates with spirits and deities in equal potency. He walks within circular and square forms, holds a staff aligned with the plumb line—internally he governs himself well, externally he wins the hearts of people. When he issues commands, all under heaven follow like the wind. The one who adheres to the four seasons understands that spring brings growth, summer nurtures, autumn harvests, and winter stores. Taking and giving are measured; entering and leaving have limits. Joy and anger, rigidity and gentleness—none deviate from principle. Gentle yet not brittle, firm yet unbroken, lenient yet not indulgent, solemn yet not contradictory—he moves with ease and follows the natural course to nurture all beings. His virtue includes the foolish and accommodates the unworthy, without private favor or preference. One who employs the Six Laws governs life and death, rewards and punishments, giving and taking—without these there is no way. He attacks disorder, prohibits violence, promotes virtue while discarding the unworthy, corrects deviation to establish righteousness, transforms treachery into peace, straightens what is crooked. He understands how to issue commands, knows when to open or close paths, seizes opportunities and follows momentum—to serve and guide the hearts of the people. An emperor who abandons the Supreme Unity and instead follows yin and yang will decline; a king who forsakes the principles of yin-yang and adheres only to the four seasons will weaken; a hegemon who relies on the Six Laws alone will suffer disgrace; a ruler who loses the standard measures will be abandoned. Therefore, when one is small in status but acts as if great, he becomes blocked and unapproachable; when one is great in position yet behaves as if small, his domain becomes narrow and incapable of embracing others.

Laozi said: A vast territory and numerous people are not sufficient for strength; strong armor and sharp weapons cannot be relied upon to ensure victory. High walls and deep moats do not guarantee security, nor can severe punishments and harsh penalties establish true authority. For a government that preserves virtue, even if small it will surely endure; for one that brings about decline, even if vast it will inevitably perish. Therefore, the skilled defender needs no one to resist; the expert warrior faces no one to fight. By riding the momentum of time and responding to the desires of the people, all under heaven will submit willingly. Therefore, a good ruler of the people accumulates virtue; a skilled general stores up righteous anger. When virtue is accumulated, the people can be relied upon; when anger is properly contained, authority and awe are established. Therefore, where the influence of culture and virtue is deep, the power to command is great; where benevolence is widely practiced, authority extends broadly. When this breadth exists, one's own strength becomes evident while the weakness of others is clear. A skilled general first weakens the enemy before engaging in battle, thus expending half the effort yet achieving tenfold success. Therefore, a state with a thousand chariots that practices virtue and culture will become a king; a state with ten thousand chariots that favors war will perish. A wise general secures victory before fighting, while a reckless one fights first and then seeks to win—this is ignorance of the Dao.