The great Tao flows everywhere. All things are born from it, yet it doesn't create them. It pours itself into its work, yet it makes no claim. It nourishes infinite worlds, yet it doesn't hold on to them. Since it is merged with all things and hidden in their hearts, it can be called humble. Since all things vanish into it and it alone endures, it can be called great. It isn't aware of its greatness; thus it is truly great.

Who can wait in stillness while the mud settles?

Do the difficult things while they are easy and do the great things while they are small. A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step.

Violence, even well intentioned, always rebounds upon oneself.

The one who is conscious (in Tao) can't speak. The one who can speak is not conscious (centered in Tao)

Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like.

The slaying of multitudes should be mourned with sorrow. A victory should be celebrated with the funeral rite.