(3) Thereupon he took his staff and went off. His people all followed him, and they founded a new State at the foot of Mount Ch'i. Now T'ai Wang Shan Fu undoubtedly had a proper respect for life. And those who have a proper respect for life, if rich and powerful, do not let that which should nourish injure the body. If poor and lowly, they do not allow gain to involve them in physical wear and tear. But the men of the present generation who occupy positions of power and influence, are all afraid of losing what they have got. Directly they see a chance of gain, away goes all care for their bodies. Is not that a cause for confusion? In three successive cases the people of Yüeh had put their prince to death. Accordingly, Shou, the son of the last prince, was much alarmed, and fled to Tan Hsüeh, leaving the State of Yüeh without a ruler. Shou was at first nowhere to be found, but at length he was traced to Tan Hsüeh. He was, however, unwilling to come forth, so they smoked him out with moxa. They had a royal carriage ready for him; and as Shou seized the cord to mount the chariot, he looked up to heaven and cried, "Oh! ruling, ruling, could I not have been spared this?"

(9) "Are you afraid?" asked Tzŭ Ssŭ. "I am not," replied Tzŭ Yü. "What have I to fear? Ere long I shall be decomposed. My left shoulder will become a cock, and I shall herald the approach of morn. My right shoulder will become a cross-bow, and I shall be able to get broiled duck. My buttocks will become wheels; and with my soul for a horse, I shall be able to ride in my own chariot. I obtained life because it was my time: I am now parting with it in accordance with the same law. Content with the natural sequence of these states, joy and sorrow touch me not. I am simply, as the ancients expressed it, hanging in the air, unable to cut myself down, bound with the trammels of material existence. But man has ever given way before God: why, then, should I be afraid?" By-and-by, another of the four, named Tzŭ Lai, fell ill, and lay gasping for breath, while his family stood weeping around. The fourth friend, Tzŭ Li, went to see him. "Chut!" cried he to the wife and children; "begone! you balk his decomposition." Then, leaning against the door, he said, "Verily, God is great! I wonder what he will make of you now. I wonder whither you will be sent. Do you think he will make you into a rat's liver or into the shoulders of a snake?" "A son," answered Tzŭ Lai, "must go whithersoever his parents bid him. Nature is no other than a man's parents.

(142) And over against the Deep he set the dwelling of Nudimmud

(3) "By nourishment of physical courage, the sense of fear may be so eliminated that a man will, single-handed, brave a whole army. And if such a result can be achieved in search of fame, how much more by one who extends his sway over heaven and earth and influences all things; and who, lodging within the confines of a body with its channels of sight and sound, brings his knowledge to know that all things are ONE, and that his soul endures for ever! Besides, he awaits his appointed hour, and men flock to him of their own accord. He makes no effort to attract them." Shên T'u Chia had had his toes cut off. Subsequently, he studied under Poh Hun Wu Jen at the same time as Tzŭ Ch'an of the Chêng State. The latter said to him, "When I leave first, do you remain awhile. When you leave first, I will remain behind." Next day, when they were again together in the lecture-room, Tzŭ Ch'an said, "When I leave first, do you remain awhile. When you leave first, I will remain. I am now about to go. Will you remain or not? I notice you show no respect to a Minister of State. Perhaps you think yourself my equal?"

(6) Chuang Tzŭ having replied in the affirmative, the skull began:—"In death, there is no sovereign above, and no subject below. The workings of the four seasons are unknown. Our existences are bounded only by eternity. The happiness of a king among men cannot exceed that which we enjoy." Chuang Tzŭ, however, was not convinced, and said, "Were I to prevail upon God to allow your body to be born again, and your bones and flesh to be renewed, so that you could return to your parents, to your wife, and to the friends of your youth,—would you be willing?" At this, the skull opened its eyes wide and knitted its brows and said, "How should I cast aside happiness greater than that of a king, and mingle once again in the toils and troubles of mortality?" When Yen Yüan went eastwards to the Ch'i State, Confucius was sad. Tzŭ Kung arose and said, "Is it, Sir, because Hui has gone east to Ch'i that you are sad?" "A good question," replied Confucius. "There is a saying by Kuan Chung of old which I highly esteem: 'Small bags won't hold big things; short ropes won't reach down deep wells.' Thus, destiny is a pre-arrangement, just as form has its limitations. From neither, to neither, can you either take away or add. And I fear lest Hui, on his visit to the prince of Ch'i, should preach the Tao of Yao and Shun, and dwell on the words of Sui Jen and Shên Nung. The prince will then search within himself, but will not find. And not finding, he will doubt. And when a man doubts, he will kill.

(5) "I showed myself to him just now," said Hu Tzŭ, "as Tao appeared before time was. I was to him as a great blank, existing of itself. He knew not who I was. His face fell. He became confused. And so he fled." Upon this Lieh Tzŭ stood convinced that he had not yet acquired any real knowledge, and at once set to work in earnest, passing three years without leaving the house. He helped his wife to cook the family dinner, and fed his pigs just like human beings. He discarded the artificial and reverted to the natural. He became merely a shape. Amidst confusion, he was unconfounded. And so he continued to the end. By Inaction, fame comes as the spirits of the dead come to the boy who impersonates the corpse.

(1) Tzŭ Ch'i of Nan-kuo sat leaning on a table. Looking up to heaven, he sighed and became absent, as though soul and body had parted. Yen Ch'êng Tzŭ Yu, who was standing by him, exclaimed, "What are you thinking about that your body should become thus like dry wood, your mind like dead ashes? Surely the man now leaning on the table is not he who was here just now." "My friend," replied Tzŭ Ch'i, "your question is apposite. To-day I have buried myself.... Do you understand?... Ah! perhaps you only know the music of Man, and not that of Earth. Or even if you have heard the music of Earth, you have not heard the music of Heaven." "Pray explain," said Tzŭ Yu. "The breath of the universe," continued Tzŭ Ch'i, "is called wind. At times, it is inactive. But when active, every aperture resounds to the blast. Have you never listened to its growing roar? "Caves and dells of hill and forest, hollows in huge trees of many a span in girth;—these are like nostrils, like mouths, like ears, like beam-sockets, like goblets, like mortars, like ditches, like bogs. And the wind goes rushing through them, sniffing, snoring, singing, soughing, puffing, purling, whistling, whirring, now shrilly treble, now deeply bass, now soft, now loud; until, with a lull, silence reigns supreme. Have you never witnessed among the trees such a disturbance as this?"

(10) If she bid me die quickly, and I demur, then I am an unfilial son. She can do me no wrong. Tao gives me this form, this toil in manhood, this repose in old age, this rest in death. And surely that which is such a kind arbiter of my life is the best arbiter of my death. "Suppose that the boiling metal in a smelting-pot were to bubble up and say, 'Make of me an Excalibur;' I think the caster would reject that metal as uncanny. And if a sinner like myself were to say to God, 'Make of me a man, make of me a man;' I think he too would reject me as uncanny. The universe is the smelting-pot, and God is the caster. I shall go whithersoever I am sent, to wake unconscious of the past, as a man wakes from a dreamless sleep." Tzŭ Sang Hu, Mêng Tzŭ Fan, and Tzŭ Ch'in Chang, were conversing together, when it was asked, "Who can be, and yet not be? Who can do, and yet not do? Who can mount to heaven, and roaming through the clouds, pass beyond the limits of space, oblivious of existence, for ever and ever without end?" The three looked at each other and smiled; and as neither had any misgivings, they became friends accordingly. Shortly afterwards Tzŭ Sang Hu died; whereupon Confucius sent Tzŭ Kung to take part in the mourning. But Tzŭ Kung found that one had composed a song which the other was accompanying on the lute, Tzŭ Kung hurried in and said, "How can you sing alongside of a corpse? Is this decorum?" The two men looked at each other and laughed, saying, "What should this man know of decorum indeed?" Tzŭ Kung went back and told Confucius, asking him, "What manner of men are these? Their object is nothingness and a separation from their corporeal frames. They can sit near a corpse and yet sing, unmoved. There is no class for such. What are they?"

(12) was sitting leaning on a table. He looked up to heaven and sighed, at which juncture Yen Ch'êng Tzŭ entered and said, "How, Sir, can such an important person as yourself be in body like dry wood, in mind like dead ashes?" "I used to live in a cave on the hills," replied Tzŭ Chi. "At that time, T'ien Ho, because he once saw me, was thrice congratulated by the people of Ch'i. Now I must have given some indication by which he recognised me. I must have sold for him to buy. For had I not manifested myself, how would he have recognised me? Had I not sold, how could he have bought? "Alas! I grieve over man's self-destruction. And then I grieve over one who grieves for another. And then I grieve over him who grieves over one who grieves for another! And so I get daily farther and farther away."

(66) It is true indeed he took our Body on him, but not mingled with the holy Ternary; for Death stuck in our Body, and the Ternarius Sanctus was chis Death, and Victory; and in the holy Ternary was his Deity; and that Man is come from Heaven, and has put on the earthly [Man,] and brought to pass the Redemption between the earthly and the heavenly, whereby the Soul was severed from the Anger and Wrath.

(3) Let us consider. Heaven does nothing; yet it is clear. Earth does nothing; yet it enjoys repose. From the inaction of these two proceed all the modifications of things. How vast, how infinite is inaction, yet without source! How infinite, how vast, yet without form! The endless varieties of things around us all spring from inaction. Therefore it has been said, "Heaven and earth do nothing, yet there is nothing which they do not accomplish." But among men, who can attain to inaction? When Chuang Tzŭ's wife died, Hui Tzŭ went to condole. He found the widower sitting on the ground, singing, with his legs spread out at a right angle, and beating time on a bowl. "To live with your wife," exclaimed Hui Tzŭ, "and see your eldest son grow up to be a man, and then not to shed a tear over her corpse,—this would be bad enough. But to drum on a bowl, and sing; surely this is going too far."

(2) But what inducement is there to renounce the affairs of men, to become indifferent to life?—In the first case, the physical body suffers no wear and tear; in the second, the vitality is left unharmed. And he whose physical frame is perfect and whose vitality is in its original purity,—he is one with God. Heaven and earth are the father and mother of all things. When they unite, the result is shape. When they disperse, the original condition is renewed. But if body and vitality are both perfect, this state is called fit for translation. Such perfection of vitality goes back to the minister of God. Lieh Tzŭ asked Kuan Yin, saying, "The perfect man can walk through solid bodies without obstruction. He can pass through fire without being burnt. He can scale the highest heights without fear. How does he bring himself to this?" "It is because he is in a condition of absolute purity," replied Kuan Yin. "It is not cunning which enables him to dare such feats. Be seated, and I will tell you. "All that has form, sound, and colour, may be classed under the head thing. Man differs so much from the rest, and stands at the head of all things, simply because the latter are but what they appear and nothing more. But man can attain to formlessness and vanquish death. And with that which is in possession of the eternal, how can mere things compare?

(7) thinks nothing, the soul will preserve the body, and the body will live for ever. "Cherish that which is within you, and shut off that which is without; for much knowledge is a curse. Then I will place you upon that abode of Great Light which is the source of the positive Power, and escort you through the gate of Profound Mystery which is the source of the negative Power. These Powers are the controllers of heaven and earth, and each contains the other. "Cherish and preserve your own self, and all the rest will prosper of itself. I preserve the original One, while resting in harmony with externals. It is because I have thus cared for my self now for twelve hundred years that my body has not decayed." The Yellow Emperor prostrated himself and said, "Kuang Ch'êng Tzŭ is surely God...." Whereupon the latter continued, "Come, I will tell you. That self is eternal; yet all men think it mortal. That self is infinite; yet all men think it finite. Those who possess Tao are princes in this life and rulers in the hereafter. Those who do not possess Tao, behold the light of day in this life and become clods of earth in the hereafter.

(4) The Yellow Emperor gave us the Hsien-ch'ih. Yao gave us the Ta-chang. Shun, the Ta-shao. Yü, the Ta-hsia. T'ang, the Ta-hu. Wên Wang, the P'i-yung. Wu Wang and Chou Kung added the Wu. The mourning ceremonial of old was according to the estate of each, and determined in proportion to rank. Thus, the body of the Son of Heaven was enclosed in a seven-fold coffin. That of a feudal prince, in a five-fold coffin. That of a minister, in a three-fold coffin. That of a private individual, in a two-fold coffin. But now Mih Tzŭ would have no singing in life, no mourning after death, and a single coffin of only three inches in thickness as the rule for all alike! Such doctrines do not illustrate his theory of universal love; neither does his practice of them establish the fact of his own personal self-respect. They may not suffice to destroy his system altogether; though it is unreasonable to prohibit singing, and weeping, and rejoicing in due season. He would have men toil through life and hold death in contempt. But this teaching is altogether too unattractive. It would land mankind in sorrow and lamentation. It would be next to impossible as a practical system, and cannot, I fear, be regarded as the Tao of the true Sage. It would be diametrically opposed to human passions, and as such would not be tolerated by the world. Mih Tzŭ himself might be able to carry it out; but not the rest of the world. And when one separates from the rest of the world, his chances of developing an ideal State become small indeed.

(102) And now, when it is almost made, then it has its true virtue and colour, and there is nothing wanting except in this, that the spirit cannot elevate itself with its body into the light, but must remain to be a dead stone; and though indeed it be of greater virtue than other stones, yet the body remaineth in death.

(48) When the soul was joined to the body it was part of the all: never has there been so marvellous a talisman. The soul had a share of that which is high, and the body a share of that which is low; it was formed of a mixture of heavy clay and pure spirit. By this mixing, man became the most astonishing of mysteries. We do not know nor do we understand so much as a little of our spirit. If you wish to say something about this, it would be better to keep silent. Many know the surface of this ocean, but they understand nothing of the depths; and the visible world is the talisman which protects it. But this talisman of bodily obstacles will be broken at last. You will find the treasure when the talisman disappears; the soul will manifest itself when the body is laid aside. But your soul is another talisman; it is, for this mystery, another substance. Walk then in the way I shall indicate, but do not ask for an explanation.

(42) Timaeus: and earth and air, a mass tumultuous and irrational, returns again to the semblance of his first and best state. When He had fully declared unto them all these ordinances, to the end that He might be blameless in respect of the future wickedness of any one of them, He proceeded to sow them, some in the Earth, some in the Moon , others in the rest of the organs of Time. Following upon this sowing, He delivered over to the young gods the task of molding mortal bodies, and of framing and controlling all the rest of the human soul which it was still necessary to add, together with all that belonged thereto,

(9) Tzŭ Kung came driving up in a fine chariot, in a white robe lined with purple; but the hood of the chariot was too big for the street. When he went to see Yüan Hsien, the latter came to the door in a flowery cap, with his shoes down at heel, and leaning on a stalk. "Good gracious!" cried Tzŭ Kung, "whatever is the matter with you?" "I have heard," replied Yüan Hsien, "that he who is without wealth is called poor, and that he who learns without being able to practise is said to have something the matter with him. Now I am merely poor; I have nothing the matter with me." Tzŭ Kung was much abashed at this reply; upon which Yüan Hsien smiling continued, "To try to thrust myself forward among men; to seek friendship in mutual flattery; to learn for the sake of others; to teach for my own sake; to use benevolence and duty to one's neighbour for evil ends; to make a great show with horses and carriages,—these things I cannot do." Tsêng Tzŭ lived in the Wei State. His wadded coat had no outside cloth. His face was bloated and rough. His hands and feet were horny hard. For three days he had had no fire; no new clothes for ten years. If he set his cap straight the tassel would come off. If he drew up his sleeve his elbow would poke through. If he pulled up his shoe, the heel would come off. Yet slipshod he sang the Sacrificial Odes of Shang, his voice filling the whole sky, as though it had been some instrument of metal or stone.

(7) 5 To say by Nut, the great, (who is) within the encircled mansion: This is (my) son N., of (my) heart. 5 I have given to him the D.t, that he may be chief therein, like Horus, chief of the D.t. 5 All the gods say (to Nut): 5 "Thy father Shu knows that thou lovest N. more than thy mother Tefnut."

(16) But Wu Kuang declined, saying, "To depose a ruler is not to do one's duty to one's neighbour. To slay the people is not charity. For others to suffer these wrongs, while I enjoy the profits, is not honest. I have heard say that one should not accept a wage unless earned in accordance with right; and that if the world is without Tao, one should not put foot upon its soil, still less rule over it! I can bear this no longer." Thereupon he took a stone on his back and jumped into the river Lu. At the rise of the Chou dynasty there were two scholars, named Po I and Shu Ch'i, who lived in Ku-tu. One of these said to the other, "I have heard that in the west there are men who are apparently in possession of Tao. Let us go and see them." When they arrived at Ch'i-yang, Wu Wang heard of their arrival and sent Shu Tan to enter into a treaty with them. They were to receive emoluments of the second degree and rank of the first degree. The treaty was to be sealed with blood and buried. At this the two looked at each other and smiled. "Ah!" said one of them, "this is strange indeed. It is not what we call Tao. "When Shên Nung ruled the empire, he worshipped God without asking for any reward. Sometimes it was the law he put in force; sometimes it was his personal influence he brought to bear. He was loyal and faithful to his people without seeking any return. He did not build his success upon another's ruin, nor mount high by means of another's fall, nor seize opportunities to secure his own advantage.