Part 2

Those with highest Tao attributes don't display them and thus possess them fully, while those with lower degrees seek to display and keep them, losing them in the process.

The highest virtue operates effortlessly without purpose, while lower degrees require constant deliberate action.

True benevolence and righteousness manifest without forced effort, but propriety requires constant performance and enforcement.

When Tao is lost, successively lower virtues emerge: attributes, benevolence, righteousness, and finally propriety, which marks the beginning of disorder.

The sage dwells with the fruit rather than the flower, rejecting the superficial and choosing what is solid and essential.

Heaven, Earth, spirits, valleys, creatures, and rulers all exist through obtaining the Tao, which brings them their essential properties.

Without the Tao, all things from heaven to spirits to creatures would fail, break, or decay, demonstrating its fundamental necessity.

Princes understand that their dignity comes from recognizing their fundamental meanness, as the strength of a carriage lies not in its visible parts but its void center.

The movement and operation of the Tao proceeds through opposites, with weakness being the characteristic of its mighty operations.

Named things originate from the Tao as existing, while that existence itself springs from the Tao as non-existent and unnamed.

Highest scholars practice the Tao upon hearing it, middle scholars waver, and lowest scholars mock it—though mockery proves its authenticity.

The Tao's true nature is expressed through apparent contradictions: brightest yet lacking light, progress seeming like retreat, great yet appearing small.

Though the Tao has no name and is hidden, it possesses skill in providing what all things need to become complete.

The Tao produces One, One produces Two, Two produces Three, and Three produces all things, which then return to obscurity while embracing brightness through harmony.

Kings call themselves orphans and weak because paradoxically things are increased by diminishment and diminished by increase.

Those relying on violence and strength do not achieve natural longevity, establishing the basis for the Taoist teaching.

Water and that which lacks substantial existence overcome the hardest things, demonstrating the advantage of doing nothing with purpose.

Most people fail to achieve understanding of the wordless teaching and the benefits of non-action.

The passage questions whether fame or life is more valuable, showing that keeping life while losing wealth brings less sorrow than the reverse.

Those pursuing fame and wealth neglect greater values, while those content avoid shame and those who know to stop avoid blame.

True greatness appears as emptiness, straightness appears crooked, great art appears foolish, and eloquence appears stammering.

Constant action overcomes cold while stillness overcomes heat, and purity combined with stillness provides the correct law for all under heaven.

When the Tao is observed, war-horses return to drawing dung-carts; when disregarded, war-horses breed for conflict.

Sanctioning ambition, discontent with one's lot, and the wish to possess are the greatest guilt, calamity, and fault; only contentment brings lasting sufficiency.

One can understand all under heaven without leaving one's door or window, as travel outward diminishes knowledge while inward focus increases it.

Sages acquire knowledge, name things, and accomplish ends without traveling, seeing, or having deliberate purpose.

Those devoted to learning increase knowledge daily, while those devoted to the Tao decrease action daily until reaching non-action.

By progressively diminishing deliberate action until reaching pure non-action, one becomes capable of accomplishing everything.

One gains dominion over the world not through effort but by giving oneself no trouble; seeking such mastery defeats the goal.

The sage adapts his mind to that of the people, making the people's mind his mind.

The sage is good to both good and ungood people, sincere to both sincere and insincere people, thereby transforming all to goodness and sincerity.

The sage maintains an appearance of indecision and indifference while universally drawing people's attention and dealing with them as children.

Of ten people, three serve life, three serve death, and three pursue life but move toward death through excessive life-preservation efforts.

One who skillfully manages life can move safely among dangerous animals and weapons because there is in him no place where death can lodge.

All things are produced and nourished by the Tao according to their nature and circumstances, and they spontaneously honor the Tao without command.

The Tao produces, nurtures, matures, and completes all things without claiming possession or vaunting its ability—this is its mysterious operation.

Understanding the Tao as the mother of all things and guarding its qualities within oneself brings freedom from peril.

Closing one's mouth and restraining the senses brings freedom from exertion; perceiving smallness gives clear-sightedness, and guarding softness creates strength.

If a ruler following the Great Tao suddenly gained power, his primary fear would be making a boastful display rather than governing poorly.

The great Tao is level and easy, yet people love the byways and thus create disorder through abandoned fields and empty granaries.

When the Tao is nurtured in the self, effects spread to the family, neighborhood, state, and kingdom in expanding circles of prosperity.

The effects of Tao practice are observable at each scale from personal to universal, confirming the principle holds throughout all under heaven.

One abundantly possessing Tao attributes becomes like an infant whom insects will not sting, beasts will not seize, and predators will not strike.

The infant's weak bones and soft sinews contain firm grasp; its sexual vitality is perfect despite ignorance; its endless crying preserves its throat.

When things become strong they become old, which contradicts the Tao; whatever opposes the Tao soon ends, but false strength from forced effort brings downfall.

Those who know the Tao do not speak about it; those ready to speak do not know it.

Through restraint, blunting sharpness, unraveling complications, and tempering brightness, the sage enters mysterious agreement with obscurity.

The sage cannot be treated familiarly or distantly and is beyond all considerations of profit, injury, nobility, or meanness—he is the noblest under heaven.

While correction and military craft can regulate a state, only freedom from action and purpose makes the kingdom one's own.

More laws increase poverty, more implements for profit increase disorder, more clever contrivances spawn strange schemes, and more legislation breeds thieves.

Through non-purposive action, stillness, non-striving, and lack of ambition, the sage allows people to transform, correct themselves, enrich themselves, and return to simplicity.

Government appearing unwise brings goodness while meddlesome government brings harm, though the relationship between misery and happiness is paradoxical and uncertain.

Correction, through becoming inverted, transforms into distortion and good becomes evil—a delusion people have long held.

The sage, like a square with no sharp angles, is straightforward without excess, bright without dazzling—achieving balanced harmlessness.

Moderation effects an early return to man's normal state, accumulating Tao's attributes and subjugating obstacles to such return.

Possessing the mother of the state allows long continuance, as deep roots and firm flower-stalks secure enduring visible life.

Governing requires delicacy and minimal interference, as the gentle Tao approach naturally prevents spiritual disturbances without harm.

When neither spirits nor ruling sage harm each other, their good influences converge in the virtue of the Tao.

A great state, being low and flowing like a stream, becomes the center toward which all small states tend.

The female always overcomes the male through stillness and abasement, a quality great and small states must understand in relation to each other.

Great states gain adherents by condescending to small states, small states gain favor by abasing themselves, each achieving its desires through humility.

The Tao gives good men honor and guards even bad men, removing their ill—it is more valuable than any material treasure.

The admirable words of the Tao can purchase honor and raise performers above others; even bad men are not abandoned by it, making it invaluable.

A lesson of the Tao, presented humbly, is more valuable than the grandest material offerings presented by a prince.

The ancients valued the Tao most because it could be found through seeking and enabled the guilty to escape their guilt's stain.

The Tao way involves acting without intent, conducting affairs without stress, and treating small as great and few as many.

The sage anticipates difficult things while easy and accomplishes great things while small, understanding all difficulty arises from easiness.

Those who lightly promise keep little faith, those thinking things easy find them difficult, but the sage sees difficulty in apparent ease and thus avoids difficulties.

The sage maintains what is at rest, takes measures against things before they appear, and secures order before disorder begins.

The tallest tree grew from a tiny sprout, the highest tower from a small heap, and the journey of a thousand li from a single step.

Acting with ulterior purpose causes harm and loss, but the sage acting without such purpose preserves what others ruin through final carelessness.

The sage pursues what the multitude ignores and learns what others overlook, thereby helping natural development without ulterior purpose.

Those skillful in practicing the Tao sought to make people simple and ignorant rather than enlightening them.

The difficulty in governing arises from the people's excessive knowledge; governing through wisdom is a scourge, but refraining from it is a blessing.

Understanding when and when not to govern through wisdom, though seemingly opposite, leads people to great conformity.

Rivers and seas receive homage from all valley streams through their skill at remaining lower; the sage ruler similarly leads by placing himself below.

Though the sage has his place above and before others, they feel no weight or injury from his position due to his humility.

Because the sage does not strive, all in the world delight in exalting him and do not weary, as none can contend with non-striving.

The Tao appears inferior compared to other teachings precisely because its greatness would be recognized if it were similar to other systems.

Lao-tse prizes three things: gentleness (which enables boldness), economy (enabling liberality), and shrinking from precedence (enabling highest honor).

Modern people discard gentleness for boldness, economy for liberality, and humility for precedence-seeking—paths that lead to death.

Gentleness proves victorious even in battle, firmly maintaining its ground, as Heaven saves its possessor through his gentleness.

The warrior skilled in Tao's wars displays no martial bearing, resists rage, and vanquishes while keeping apart from foes.

The skilled warrior's might lies in non-contention, his ability to bend others' wills derives from humility, matching the unchanging ways of Heaven.

A master of war prefers being guest over host, prefers retreating to advancing—this marshals forces through non-physical means.

The greatest calamity lies in lightly engaging in war, which causes loss of gentleness, the most precious quality; deploring war brings victory.

Though the Tao's words are easy to understand and practice, few in the world can actually know and do them.

The Tao possesses an originating and comprehensive principle and authoritative law, which people fail to understand and therefore fail to know the Tao.

Those who know the Tao are rare and therefore more prized; the sage wears poor hair cloth while carrying jade in his bosom.

True knowledge includes recognizing the limits of knowledge; ignorance coupled with thinking one knows is a disease.

The sage avoids the disease of false knowledge by understanding and being pained at the thought of it.

When people don't fear what they ought to fear, great dread comes upon them.

People must not thoughtlessly indulge themselves or act weary of life, as indulgence causes such weariness.

The sage possesses self-knowledge but does not display it; he loves himself but does not appear to value himself.

Boldness in daring to do wrong leads to death, while boldness in not daring to do so leads to life.

Heaven does not strive yet overcomes, does not speak yet obtains reply, does not call yet men come—its net is large yet lets nothing escape.

Since people do not fear death naturally, threatening them with death is ineffective in preventing wrongdoing.

There is one appointed to oversee death; one who presides over execution in their stead is like a carpenter's apprentice who cuts his own hands.

People suffer famine because their superiors consume excessive taxes, creating the very suffering the superiors seek to prevent.

People become difficult to govern through the excessive agency and intervention of their superiors.

People make light of dying because of the greatness of their labors in seeking livelihood; disregarding life altogether is better than overvaluing it.

All things at birth are supple and weak, at death firm and strong; softness marks life, firmness marks death.

He relying on force strength does not conquer, and a strong tree invites the feller's ax.

The place of firmness and strength is below, while softness and weakness occupy the higher place—reversing normal valuation.

Heaven's method is like bending a bow, raising what is low and lowering what is high, diminishing superabundance and supplementing deficiency.

Unlike Heaven, humanity takes from those without enough to add to their own superabundance.

Only the possessor of the Tao can take their superabundance and use it to serve all under heaven.

The ruling sage acts without claiming results as his, achieves merit but does not rest arrogantly in it, and does not display superiority.

Nothing is softer or weaker than water, yet nothing more effectually attacks firm and strong things or can replace itself.

Though everyone in the world knows softness overcomes hardness and weakness overcomes strength, no one carries it into practice.

The one who accepts his state's reproach becomes its altars' lord; the one bearing people's woes receives the title of king.

Truly accurate words often appear paradoxical to ordinary understanding.

After reconciliation following great animosity, a grudge inevitably remains in the mind of the one who did wrong.

The sage, possessing Tao attributes, keeps the left-hand portion of the engagement record and does not insist on quick fulfillment by the other party.

The Way of Heaven shows no partiality of love but is always on the side of the good man.

A wise ruler would order a small state so that talented individuals would not be employed and the people, though regarding death as grievous, would not leave.

Though a small state possesses boats, carriages, armor, and weapons, none should be used due to the absence of war.

An ideal small state would have people revert to simple knotted cords for recording instead of written characters.

In a well-ordered small state, people would find their coarse food sweet, plain clothes beautiful, humble dwellings restful, and simple ways joyful.

Though a neighboring state would be within sight with sounds of fowls and dogs audible, the wise ruler would keep the people from intercourse with it until death.

True sincerity and flowery language are mutually exclusive; those skilled in the Tao avoid disputation.

Those who truly know the Tao are not extensively learned; extensive learning indicates lack of true knowledge.

The sage does not accumulate for himself; the more he expends for others, the more he possesses; the more he gives, the more he has.

Despite all the sharpness of Heaven's way, it does not injure; despite all the sage's doing, he does not strive.