Sacred texts · Taoism
59 Tao Te Ching quotes from Lao Tzu, with chapter numbers
The Tao Te Ching (“the classic of the way and its virtue”) is a short Chinese text of 81 chapters, traditionally attributed to Lao Tzu, a sage of the sixth century BCE; historians tend to date its written form a few centuries later. Together with the Zhuangzi, it is the founding text of Taoism. This page gathers passages from it, each with its chapter number.
The English quotes James Legge’s The Tao Teh King, published in 1891 in the Sacred Books of the East; the French page quotes Stanislas Julien’s 1842 translation. Both are in the public domain, and every passage was checked word for word against the text. The words in parentheses are the translator’s own additions, meant to make the terse Chinese readable. To go further, see the Zhuangzi quotes or the Buddha quotes.
The Tao that cannot be named
The book opens with a warning: “The Tao that can be trodden is not the enduring and unchanging Tao. The name that can be named is not the enduring and unchanging name.” (chapter 1). The passages in this group circle around that principle without defining it: older than heaven and earth, producing all things without claiming them, useful at times through its emptiness, like the hub of a wheel.
The Tao that can be trodden is not the enduring and unchanging Tao. The name that can be named is not the enduring and unchanging name.
There was something undefined and complete, coming into existence before Heaven and Earth. How still it was and formless, standing alone, and undergoing no change, reaching everywhere and in no danger (of being exhausted)! It may be regarded as the Mother of all things.
Man takes his law from the Earth; the Earth takes its law from Heaven; Heaven takes its law from the Tao. The law of the Tao is its being what it is.
The relation of the Tao to all the world is like that of the great rivers and seas to the streams from the valleys.
The Tao in its regular course does nothing (for the sake of doing it), and so there is nothing which it does not do.
(The Tao) produces (all things) and nourishes them; it produces them and does not claim them as its own; it does all, and yet does not boast of it; it presides over all, and yet does not control them. This is what is called ‘The mysterious Quality’ (of the Tao).
Without going outside his door, one understands (all that takes place) under the sky; without looking out from his window, one sees the Tao of Heaven. The farther that one goes out (from himself), the less he knows.
All things spring up, and there is not one which declines to show itself; they grow, and there is no claim made for their ownership; they go through their processes, and there is no expectation (of a reward for the results). The work is accomplished, and there is no resting in it (as an achievement).
So it is that existence and non-existence give birth the one to (the idea of) the other; that difficulty and ease produce the one (the idea of) the other; that length and shortness fashion out the one the figure of the other; that (the ideas of) height and lowness arise from the contrast of the one with the other; that the musical notes and tones become harmonious through the relation of one with another; and that being before and behind give the idea of one following another.
The thirty spokes unite in the one nave; but it is on the empty space (for the axle), that the use of the wheel depends. Clay is fashioned into vessels; but it is on their empty hollowness, that their use depends. The door and windows are cut out (from the walls) to form an apartment; but it is on the empty space (within), that its use depends. Therefore, what has a (positive) existence serves for profitable adaptation, and what has not that for (actual) usefulness.
Lao Tzu on water and softness
Water is the favorite image of the Tao Te Ching: it benefits all things without striving, settles in the low places people disdain, and still wears down what is hard. From it comes a wisdom of softness: “The soft overcomes the hard; and the weak the strong.” (chapter 36)
The highest excellence is like (that of) water. The excellence of water appears in its benefiting all things, and in its occupying, without striving (to the contrary), the low place which all men dislike. Hence (its way) is near to (that of) the Tao.
The excellence of a residence is in (the suitability of) the place; that of the mind is in abysmal stillness; that of associations is in their being with the virtuous; that of government is in its securing good order; that of (the conduct of) affairs is in its ability; and that of (the initiation of) any movement is in its timeliness.
And when (one with the highest excellence) does not wrangle (about his low position), no one finds fault with him.
The soft overcomes the hard; and the weak the strong.
The softest thing in the world dashes against and overcomes the hardest; that which has no (substantial) existence enters where there is no crevice. I know hereby what advantage belongs to doing nothing (with a purpose).
Man at his birth is supple and weak; at his death, firm and strong. (So it is with) all things. Trees and plants, in their early growth, are soft and brittle; at their death, dry and withered. Thus it is that firmness and strength are the concomitants of death; softness and weakness, the concomitants of life.
There is nothing in the world more soft and weak than water, and yet for attacking things that are firm and strong there is nothing that can take precedence of it;—for there is nothing (so effectual) for which it can be changed.
That whereby the rivers and seas are able to receive the homage and tribute of all the valley streams, is their skill in being lower than they;—it is thus that they are the kings of them all.
The perception of what is small is (the secret of) clear-sightedness; the guarding of what is soft and tender is (the secret of) strength.
Gravity is the root of lightness; stillness, the ruler of movement.
Constant action overcomes cold; being still overcomes heat. Purity and stillness give the correct law to all under heaven.
Acting without forcing: wu wei
Wu wei, non-action, is not laziness: it means acting without forcing, at the right moment, following the grain of things. Chapter 64 gives its most quoted form, about great things that start small: “the journey of a thousand li commenced with a single step.”
Therefore the sage manages affairs without doing anything, and conveys his instructions without the use of speech.
He who devotes himself to the Tao (seeks) from day to day to diminish (his doing). He diminishes it and again diminishes it, till he arrives at doing nothing (on purpose). Having arrived at this point of non-action, there is nothing which he does not do.
(It is the way of the Tao) to act without (thinking of) acting; to conduct affairs without (feeling the) trouble of them; to taste without discerning any flavour; to consider what is small as great, and a few as many; and to recompense injury with kindness.
(The master of it) anticipates things that are difficult while they are easy, and does things that would become great while they are small. All difficult things in the world are sure to arise from a previous state in which they were easy, and all great things from one in which they were small.
The tree which fills the arms grew from the tiniest sprout; the tower of nine storeys rose from a (small) heap of earth; the journey of a thousand li commenced with a single step.
(But) people in their conduct of affairs are constantly ruining them when they are on the eve of success. If they were careful at the end, as (they should be) at the beginning, they would not so ruin them.
The sage does not act (so), and therefore does no harm; he does not lay hold (so), and therefore does not lose his hold.
Thus he helps the natural development of all things, and does not dare to act (with an ulterior purpose of his own).
It is the way of Heaven not to strive, and yet it skilfully overcomes; not to speak, and yet it is skilful in obtaining a reply; does not call, and yet men come to it of themselves. Its demonstrations are quiet, and yet its plans are skilful and effective. The meshes of the net of Heaven are large; far apart, but letting nothing escape.
With all the sharpness of the Way of Heaven, it injures not; with all the doing in the way of the sage he does not strive.
Who can (make) the muddy water (clear)? Let it be still, and it will gradually become clear. Who can secure the condition of rest? Let movement go on, and the condition of rest will gradually arise.
Humility and the sage who stays behind
The sage of the Tao Te Ching puts himself last and ends up first, avoids self-display and yet shines. These passages describe an active humility: withdrawing once the work is done (chapter 9), not standing on tiptoe to look taller (chapter 24).
We should blunt our sharp points, and unravel the complications of things; we should attemper our brightness, and bring ourselves into agreement with the obscurity of others. How pure and still the Tao is, as if it would ever so continue!
Heaven is long-enduring and earth continues long. The reason why heaven and earth are able to endure and continue thus long is because they do not live of, or for, themselves. This is how they are able to continue and endure.
Therefore the sage puts his own person last, and yet it is found in the foremost place; he treats his person as if it were foreign to him, and yet that person is preserved.
When the work is done, and one’s name is becoming distinguished, to withdraw into obscurity is the way of Heaven.
They who preserve this method of the Tao do not wish to be full (of themselves). It is through their not being full of themselves that they can afford to seem worn and not appear new and complete.
The partial becomes complete; the crooked, straight; the empty, full; the worn out, new. He whose (desires) are few gets them; he whose (desires) are many goes astray.
He is free from self-display, and therefore he shines; from self-assertion, and therefore he is distinguished; from self-boasting, and therefore his merit is acknowledged; from self-complacency, and therefore he acquires superiority. It is because he is thus free from striving that therefore no one in the world is able to strive with him.
He who stands on his tiptoes does not stand firm; he who stretches his legs does not walk (easily).
Hence the sage is able (in the same way) to accomplish his great achievements. It is through his not making himself great that he can accomplish them.
(Such an one) cannot be treated familiarly or distantly; he is beyond all consideration of profit or injury; of nobility or meanness:—he is the noblest man under heaven.
Therefore the sage is (like) a square which cuts no one (with its angles); (like) a corner which injures no one (with its sharpness). He is straightforward, but allows himself no license; he is bright, but does not dazzle.
It is thus that the sage wears (a poor garb of) hair cloth, while he carries his (signet of) jade in his bosom.
Therefore the sage knows (these things) of himself, but does not parade (his knowledge); loves, but does not (appear to set a) value on, himself.
Knowing yourself and being content
Chapter 33 gathers several maxims in a few lines: knowing others, knowing yourself, overcoming yourself, being satisfied with your lot. Around it are passages on moderation, on happiness and misery that lurk within each other, and on the three precious things of chapter 67.
It is better to leave a vessel unfilled, than to attempt to carry it when it is full. If you keep feeling a point that has been sharpened, the point cannot long preserve its sharpness.
Hence the sage puts away excessive effort, extravagance, and easy indulgence.
He who knows other men is discerning; he who knows himself is intelligent.
He who overcomes others is strong; he who overcomes himself is mighty.
He who is satisfied with his lot is rich.
Therefore the sufficiency of contentment is an enduring and unchanging sufficiency.
Misery!—happiness is to be found by its side! Happiness!—misery lurks beneath it! Who knows what either will come to in the end?
For regulating the human (in our constitution) and rendering the (proper) service to the heavenly, there is nothing like moderation.
But I have three precious things which I prize and hold fast. The first is gentleness; the second is economy; and the third is shrinking from taking precedence of others.
Heaven will save its possessor, by his (very) gentleness protecting him.
To know and yet (think) we do not know is the highest (attainment).
They should think their (coarse) food sweet; their (plain) clothes beautiful; their (poor) dwellings places of rest; and their common (simple) ways sources of enjoyment.
Sincere words are not fine; fine words are not sincere.
To those who are good (to me), I am good; and to those who are not good (to me), I am also good;—and thus (all) get to be good.
How to read the Tao Te Ching
The Tao Te Ching is meant to be read slowly: a whole chapter often fits in ten lines, and each sentence bears several readings. Pick a passage, keep it for a few days and see where it leads you. The images, water, the hub of a wheel, the bent bow, often say more than the maxims.
It helps to compare translations: Legge’s “sage” is Julien’s “saint homme,” and the same chapter can feel very different from one version to the next. Legge’s parentheses show what he added to the Chinese; reading a line with and without them is a good exercise.
In the Selfia app, the Taoism path (Settings › Spirituality) adds Taoist passages in a separate section, with the Chinese text where available.
Frequently asked questions
What does Tao Te Ching mean?
The title joins three Chinese words: tao, the way; te, virtue in the sense of power or efficacy; and ching, a classic book. Legge titled it The Tao Teh King, or the Tao and its Characteristics. It is also spelled Daodejing in pinyin, the transcription used in China today.
Did Lao Tzu really write the Tao Te Ching?
Chinese tradition attributes the book to Lao Tzu, an archivist at the Zhou court and an elder contemporary of Confucius. Very little is known about him for certain, and historians think the text took its written form later, perhaps in several stages. The book itself contains almost no biographical clue.
What is wu wei?
Wu wei, often translated as non-action, is one of the central ideas of the Tao Te Ching. It does not mean doing nothing, but acting without forcing, without claiming the result, in step with the natural course of things. Chapter 37 puts it as a paradox: the Tao does nothing, and yet there is nothing it does not do.