There is something obscure which is complete before heaven and earth arose; tranquil, quiet, standing alone without change, moving without peril. It could be the mother of everything. Not knowing its name, I call it Tao.

When the great Tao is forgotten, goodness and piety appear. When the body's intelligence declines, cleverness and knowledge step forth. When there is no peace in the family, filial piety begins. When the country falls into chaos, patriotism is born.

The Way begets one; one begets two; two begets three; three begets the myriad creatures.

The inner is the foundation of the outer. The still is master of the restless. The Sage travels all day yet never leaves his inner treasure.

The Sage expects no recognition for what he does; he achieves merit but does not take it to himself; he does not wish to display his worth.

All things carry yin and embrace yang. They reach harmony by blending with the vital breath.

The Way of Heaven does not complete, and yet it skillfully achieves victory. It does not speak, and yet it skillfully responds to things. It comes to you without your invitation.