The Second Book of the Tao

A tragedy is a comedy misunderstood.

Whatever the self describes, describes the self.

Once you realize what you are, there’s nothing left but gratitude and laughter.

There may be a lot that needs fixing, but there’s nothing out there to fix.

The Master doesn’t interfere in other people’s lives. Why would he? He knows that he doesn’t know what’s best for the world, or even for himself. He leaves the gold hidden in the mountains, because he doesn’t need it on his wrist or around his wife’s neck or in the bank. Yes, he could buy pickaxes and hire ten villages of dwarfs, but he realizes th

there’s a radiance about people who have settled into the depths of not-knowing. You can see it in their eyes. It doesn’t depend on what happens or doesn’t happen. They have found the inexhaustible treasure, in the most obvious place of all.

Living in harmony with the way things are, the mind finds its center everywhere, its circumference nowhere. The part becomes the whole; what is becomes what should be. Heaven takes its proper, its only place: on earth.

The mind at peace with itself needs only what it has, wants only what it is.

When it’s genuine, benevolence is the most beautiful quality in the world. But when it has a motive, it feels like fish spittle, not like clear water. We recognize the genuine.