Language

Of language put into other people's mouths, nine tenths will succeed. Of language based upon weighty authority, seven tenths. But language which flows constantly over, as from a full goblet, is in accord with God.¹

Nine tenths of words put into other people's mouths will succeed. Seven tenths of words based on respected authority will succeed. But words that flow constantly, like wine from a full goblet, are in accord with God.¹

When language is put into other people's mouths, outside support is sought. Just as a father does not negotiate his son's marriage; for any praise he could bestow would not have the same value as praise by an outsider. Thus, the fault is not mine, but that of others.²

When words are put in other people's mouths, the aim is to gain support from outside. This is like a father not negotiating his son's marriage. Any praise the father gives his son would not carry as much weight as praise from an outsider. So the fault is not mine, but other people's.²

To that which agrees with our own opinions we assent; from that which does not we dissent. We regard that which agrees with our own opinion as right. We regard that which differs from our opinion as wrong. Language based on weighty authority is used to bar further argument. The authorities are our superiors, our elders in years. But if they lack the requisite knowledge and experience, being our superiors only in the sense of age, then they are not our superiors. And if men are not the superiors of their fellows, no one troubles about them. And those about whom no one troubles are merely stale.

We agree with what matches our own opinions and disagree with what does not. We call what matches our opinions right. We call what differs from them wrong. People use the words of respected authorities to shut down further argument. These authorities are our superiors, our elders. But if they lack the necessary knowledge and experience, and are superior only in age, then they are not our superiors. And if people are not superior to others, no one pays them any attention. Those whom no one pays attention to are merely stale.

Language which flows constantly over, as from a full goblet, is in accord with God.³

Language that flows constantly, like wine from a full goblet, is in harmony with God.³

Because it spreads out on all sides, it endures for all time. Without language, contraries are identical. The identity is not identical with its expression: the expression is not identical with its identity. Therefore it has been said, Language not expressed in language is not language. Constantly spoken, it is as though not spoken. Constantly unspoken, it is not as though not spoken.

Because it spreads out in all directions, it lasts for all time. Without language, opposites are the same. This sameness is not the same as its expression. Its expression is not the same as the sameness itself. That is why it has been said: Language not expressed in language is not language. When constantly spoken, it is as though it were not spoken. When constantly unspoken, it is not as though it were unspoken.

From the subjective point of view, there are possibilities and impossibilities, there are suitabilities and unsuitabilities. This results from the natural affinity of things for what they are and their natural antagonism to what they are not. For all things have their own particular constitutions and potentialities. Nothing can exist without these.⁴

From a subjective point of view, some things are possible and others impossible, some suitable and others unsuitable. This is because things are naturally drawn to what they are and opposed to what they are not. All things have their own particular nature and potential. Nothing can exist without these.⁴

But for language that constantly flows over, as from a full goblet, and is in accord with God, how should the permanent be attained?

But without language that constantly overflows like a full goblet and is in accord with God, how could anything lasting be achieved?

All things spring from germs. Under many diverse forms these things are ever being reproduced. Round and round, like a wheel, no part of which is more the starting-point than any other. This is called the equilibrium of God. And he who holds the scales is God.⁵

All things spring from seeds. These things are constantly reproduced in many different forms. The cycle goes round and round, like a wheel with no single starting point. This is called the balance of God. And God is the one who holds the scales.⁵

Chuang Tzŭ said to Hui Tzŭ, "When Confucius reached his sixtieth year he changed his opinions. What he had previously regarded as right, he ultimately came to regard as wrong. But who shall say whether the right of to-day may not be as wrong as the wrong of the previous fifty-nine years?"⁶

Chuang Tzŭ said to Hui Tzŭ, "When Confucius turned sixty, he changed his opinions. He eventually came to think that what he had once considered right was wrong. But who can say whether what he considers right today may not be as wrong as what he thought in the previous fifty-nine years?"⁶

"He was a persevering worker," replied Hui Tzŭ, "and his wisdom increased day by day."⁷

"He worked steadily," replied Hui Tzŭ, "and grew wiser every day."⁷

"Confucius," replied Chuang Tzŭ, "discarded both perseverance and wisdom, but did not attempt to formulate the doctrine in words. He said, 'Man has received his talents from God, together with a soul to give them life. He should speak in accordance with established laws. His words should be in harmony with fixed order. Personal advantage and duty to one's neighbour lie open before us. Likes and dislikes, rights and wrongs, are but as men choose to call them. But to bring submission into men's hearts, so that they shall not be stiff-necked, and thus fix firmly the foundations of the empire,—to that, alas! I have not attained.'"⁸

"Confucius," replied Chuang Tzŭ, "gave up both perseverance and wisdom, but did not try to put the doctrine into words. He said, 'People receive their talents from God, along with a soul to bring those talents to life. They should speak according to established laws. Their words should be in harmony with the fixed order. Personal advantage and duty to one's neighbor lie before us. Likes and dislikes, right and wrong, are simply what people choose to call them. But I have not, alas, brought submission into people's hearts. I have not made them less stubborn and so firmly secured the foundations of the empire.'"⁸

Tsêng Tzŭ held office twice. His emotions varied in each case.⁹

Tsêng Tzŭ held office twice. He felt differently each time.⁹

"As long as my parents were alive," said he, "I was happy on a small salary. When I had a large salary, but my parents were no more, I was sad."

"As long as my parents were alive," he said, "I was happy with a small salary. But when I had a large salary, my parents were gone, and I was sad."

A disciple said to Confucius, "Can we call Tsêng Tzŭ a man without cares to trouble him?"¹⁰

A disciple asked Confucius, "Can we say that Tsêng Tzŭ is a man without worries?"¹⁰

"He had cares to trouble him," replied Confucius. "Can a man who has no cares to trouble him feel grief? His small salary and his large salary were to him like a heron or a mosquito flying past."

"He had worries," Confucius replied. "Can a man with no worries feel grief? Whether his salary was small or large, it meant no more to him than a heron or a mosquito flying past."

Yen Ch'êng Tzŭ Yu said to Tung Kuo Tzŭ Ch'i,¹¹ "One year after receiving your instructions I became naturally simple. After two years, I could adapt myself as required. After three years, I understood. After four years, my intelligence developed. After five years, it was complete. After six years, the spirit entered into me. After seven, I knew God. After eight, life and death existed for me no more. After nine, perfection.

Yen Ch'êng Tzŭ Yu said to Tung Kuo Tzŭ Ch'i,¹¹ "One year after receiving your instruction, I became naturally simple. After two years, I could adapt as needed. After three years, I understood. After four years, my intelligence developed. After five years, it was complete. After six years, the spirit entered me. After seven, I knew God. After eight, life and death no longer existed for me. After nine, perfection.

"Life has its distinctions; but in death we are all made equal. That death should have an origin, but that life should have no origin,—can this be so? What determines its presence in one place, its absence in another?

"Life makes distinctions among us, but death makes us all equal. Can death have a beginning, while life has none? What determines its presence in one place and its absence in another?

"Heaven has its fixed order.¹²

"Heaven has its own fixed order.¹²

Earth has yielded up its secrets to man. But where to seek whence am I?

Earth has revealed its secrets to humanity. But where should I look to find where I came from?

"Not knowing the hereafter, how can we deny the operation of Destiny? Not knowing what preceded birth, how can we assert the operation of Destiny? When things turn out as they ought, who shall say that the agency is not supernatural? When things turn out otherwise, who shall say that it is?"

"Since we do not know what happens after death, how can we deny that Destiny is at work? Since we do not know what came before birth, how can we claim that Destiny is at work? When things turn out as they should, who can say that the force behind them is not supernatural? When things turn out otherwise, who can say that the force behind them is supernatural?"

The various Penumbræ said to the Umbra, "Before you were looking down, now you are looking up. Before you had your hair tied up, now it is all loosed. Before you were sitting, now you have got up. Before you were moving, now you are stopping still. How is this?"

The various Penumbræ said to the Umbra, "Before, you were looking down. Now you are looking up. Before, your hair was tied up. Now it is all loose. Before, you were sitting. Now you have stood up. Before, you were moving. Now you are standing still. Why is that?"

"Gentlemen," replied the Umbra, "the question is hardly worth asking.¹³

"Gentlemen," the Umbra replied, "the question is hardly worth asking.¹³

I do these things, but I do not know why. I am like the scaly back of the cicada, the shell of the locust,—apparently independent, but not really so. By firelight or in daylight I am seen: in darkness or by night I am gone. And if I am dependent on these, how much more are they dependent on something else? When they come, I come with them. When they go, I go with them. When they live, I live with them. But who it is that gives the life, how shall we seek to know?"¹⁴

I do these things, but I don't know why. I am like the scaly back of a cicada or the shell of a locust. I seem independent, but I am not. I can be seen by firelight or in daylight. In darkness or at night, I disappear. And if I depend on these, how much more must they depend on something else? When they come, I come with them. When they go, I go with them. When they live, I live with them. But how can we find out who gives them life?"¹⁴

Yang Tzŭ Chü¹⁵ went southwards to P'ei, and when Lao Tzŭ was travelling westwards to Ch'in, hastened to receive him outside the city. Arriving at the bridge, he met Lao Tzŭ; and the latter standing in the middle of the road, looked up to heaven and said with a sigh, "At first, I thought you could be taught. I think so no more."

Yang Tzŭ Chü¹⁵ went south to P'ei. When Lao Tzŭ was traveling west to Ch'in, Yang Tzŭ Chü hurried outside the city to meet him. He met Lao Tzŭ at the bridge. Lao Tzŭ stood in the middle of the road, looked up at the sky, and sighed. "At first, I thought you could be taught. I don't think so anymore."

Yang Tzŭ Chü made no reply, but when they reached the inn, handed Lao Tzŭ water for washing and rinsing, and a towel and comb. He then removed his own boots outside the door, and crawling on his knees into the Master's presence, said, "I have been wishing to ask for instruction, Sir, but as you were travelling and not at leisure, I did not venture. You are now, Sir, at leisure. May I enquire the reason of what you said?"

Yang Tzŭ Chü said nothing. But when they reached the inn, he brought Lao Tzŭ water to wash and rinse with, along with a towel and comb. He then took off his own boots outside the door and crawled on his knees before the Master. He said, "I have wanted to ask for your instruction, Sir. But you were traveling and had no time, so I did not dare ask. Now that you have time, Sir, may I ask why you said what you did?"

"You have an overbearing look," said Lao Tzŭ. "Who would live with such a man? He who is truly pure behaves as though he were sullied. He who has virtue in abundance behaves as though it were not enough."¹⁶

"You look overbearing," said Lao Tzŭ. "Who would live with a man like that? A truly pure person acts as though he were tainted. A person with abundant virtue acts as though he did not have enough."¹⁶

Yang Tzŭ Chü changed countenance at this, and replied, "I hear and obey."

Yang Tzŭ Chü's expression changed at this, and he replied, "I hear and will obey."

Now when Yang Tzü Chü first went to the inn, the visitors there had come out to receive him. Mine host had arranged his mat, while the landlady held towel and comb. The visitors had given him up the best seats, and those who were cooking had left the stove free for him. But when he went back,¹⁷ the other visitors struggled to get the best seats for themselves.¹⁸

When Yang Tzü Chü first went to the inn, the guests came out to welcome him. The innkeeper arranged his mat, and the innkeeper’s wife held a towel and comb. The guests gave him the best seats, and those cooking left the stove free for him. But when he returned,¹⁷ the other guests fought for the best seats themselves.¹⁸