Life and death are one thread.
Lightly given promises must meet with little trust.
Kindness in thinking creates profoundness.
The progress of the Way seems retreating.
The sage is not ill, because he sees illness as illness.
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.