Dao De Jing

First published:Dao De Jing, late third century b.c.e. (The Speculations on Metaphysics, Polity, and Morality, of “the Old Philosopher, Lau-Tsze”, 1868; better known as Dao De Jing)

Type of Philosophy: Ethics, metaphysics, political philosophy

Authorship and Context

So little is known of Laozi, to whom the Dao De Jing is often attributed, that some scholars think he is a purely legendary figure. His name, which means Old Master, does little to establish a credible identity. The earliest literary reference to him can be found in Sima Qian's Shi-ji (first century b.c.e.; Records of the Grand Historian of China, 1960, rev. ed. 1993), one of the earliest extant volumes of Chinese history. According to this work, Laozi was born sometime in the late sixth century b.c.e. and served as official archivist in the capital Zhou. Renowned for his knowledge of ritual, he was purportedly visited by his younger contemporary Confucius, who was much impressed by his wisdom. After retiring from his civil career, however, Laozi decided to lead a hermit's life. As he was leaving for the frontier, a gatekeeper asked him to write a book that would preserve his vast store of wisdom; he therefore composed the poetic treatise that has come to be known as the Dao De Jing. He divided the book into two sections: one devoted to explicating the nature of the dao and the other analyzing de, its power or effects. After completing the work--reputedly at a single sitting--he disappeared into the wilderness, where, the historian writes, Laozi lived to the advanced age of 160 or perhaps 200 years. As if plausibility has not been strained enough, Sima Qian then speculates that Laozi may even have lived into the fourth century b.c.e.--more than one hundred years after the death of Confucius---when he returned to civilization to serve as Grand Historian to the duke of Zhou. Complicating matters even further is Sima Qian's possible identification of Laozi with an obscure figure named Lao Lai Zi, who is mentioned in the other major work of Chinese Daoism, the Zhuangzi (c. 300 b.c.e.; The Divine Classic of Nan-hua, 1881; also known as The Complete Works of Chuang Tzu, 1968; commonly known as Zhuangzi, 1991).

Although early Chinese historiography willfully mixed fact and legend, it seems unlikely that Laozi is a complete fabrication. Sima Qian's reference to Laozi's reputation as a master of traditional rites militates somewhat against the argument that the “Old Master” was a product of Daoist propaganda because Daoists were ordinarily dismissive of such practices. Moreover, while Daoist folklore is replete with legendary immortals who are able to shape-shift and perform miracles, the figure of Laozi, the humble civil servant who founded the creed, is positively mundane by comparison. (Stories of legendary encounters between Laozi and Confucius, usually at the latter's expense, do exist--most notably in the Zhuangzi; yet, even there Laozi remains very much a mortal figure.) Certainly Laozi's position as an official archivist would qualify him to be the author of the work attributed to him. Whether a contemporary of Confucius in the fifth century b.c.e. or an adviser to the duke of Zhou in the fourth, an archivist would be one of the few individuals in China at that time with the ability to read and write. Finally, in an era in which no distinction was made between a literary work and its author, the work's original title was simply the Laozi, a term that most scholars continue to use. Its subsequent title, Dao De Jing, literally the classic of dao and de, was not adopted until the first century b.c.e.

Dating Dao De Jing is as perplexing as identifying its reputed author. Traditional scholarship, which assumed Laozi to have been the author, dated the manuscript to the Spring and Autumn period (770-476 b.c.e.), making it as old as such classics as the Confucian Lunyu (late sixth or early fifth century b.c.e.; Analects, 1861) and the I Ching (Yi Jing, eighth to third century b.c.e.; English translation, 1876; also known as Book of Changes, 1986). However, modern scholars who have debated the identity of Laozi and questioned his authorship of the Dao De Jing have generally placed its composition in the Warring States period (403-222 b.c.e.). A number of strong arguments, based on internal and external evidence, seem to point to the latter period. For instance, the work's preoccupation with the individual's survival in a chaotic world seems to reflect the political instability of the Warring States period. Moreover, the work's identification of dao with the Creator is certainly atypical of the Spring and Autumn period, in which tian, or Heaven, most often serves in that capacity. Its use of rhyme and lack of dialogue also differentiate it from older wisdom books such as the Analects and the Mozi (fifth century b.c.e.; The Ethical and Political Works of Motse, 1929; also known as Mo Tzu: Basic Writings, 1963). The dearth of contemporary references to the Dao De Jing in works belonging to the Spring and Autumn period would also seem to weigh against the earlier date (although one can argue that if the Analects do not refer to the Dao De Jing, neither does the Dao De Jing refer to the Analects). The earliest references to the Dao De Jing are quotations from the work included in the Zhuangzi, a product of the Warring States period. However, even this supposed “fact” is at best ambiguous because the Zhuangzi is itself most likely a redaction of earlier works.

Whether written by Laozi or compiled by a latter-day Daoist, the Dao De Jing is ultimately a product of China's fervent intellectual climate of the fifth and fourth centuries b.c.e., a period often referred to as the “one hundred schools” for its philosophic diversity. This period witnessed the rise of competing schools of thought centered on charismatic expositors such as Confucius, Mozi, Mencius, and Yang Zhu. At times the Dao De Jing seems bewildering, if not perverse, unless this philosophic context is taken into account. Indeed, the work alternately affirms and rejects positions and even the terminology of the competing schools. For instance, its famous first line, “the dao that can be named is not the true dao,” seems a deliberate rebuke to the fa jia, or Legalist, school, which sought to remedy contemporary social ills through accurate naming. Similarly, chapter 3 borrows the Mohist phrase “worthy men” to make a decidedly anti-Mohist point--that not praising worthy men is the best way to keep from stirring the ambitions of the common people. Chapter 31's advocacy of defensive warfare finds the author in agreement with Mozi, but in opposition to Yang Zhu's more extreme pacifism. Even the emphasis on dao (or “Way”), a common word in the philosophic parlance of the time, seems a calculated attempt to undermine the authority of the other schools--as if to imply that the Daoist is the ultimate school of thought.

The reflexive nature of the Dao De Jing is perhaps the best argument for late authorship because the other schools' positions and terminology presumably would have to have been well established in order for the work to subvert them. If one accepts the late authorship, then the figure of Laozi becomes a necessary fiction to an emergent school of thought competing with other schools centered on a sage philosopher. On the other hand, a sixth century b.c.e. Laozi may have anticipated the philosophic debate of the “one hundred schools period”--or perhaps the positions and terminology of the period themselves belong to an earlier, largely preliterate society.

Some scholars entirely reject the premise that the Dao De Jing is the work of a single author, whether Laozi or a latter-day scribe writing under his name. Instead they explain the unusual work as a collection of sayings belonging to Daoist oral tradition. According to this hypothesis, the social unrest of the Warring States period produced a subclass of disaffected gentlemen, or shi, who withdrew from the chaos of their culture into Laoist communities based upon the quietist principles attributed to Laozi. The Dao De Jing thus becomes the work of a Laoist editor (or editors) who collected and perhaps elaborated upon the traditional Daoist proverbs attributed to Laozi. Certainly the Dao De Jing is full of statements with memorable images and a proverblike ring, such as “To rule a country is like cooking a small fish” (that is, it is easy to spoil) and “Heaven and Earth are not kind--to them all things are straw dogs” (insignificant items burned in ritual sacrifice). Such utterances seem to owe less to literary metaphysics than to the practical affairs of an oral culture. This may explain the seemingly haphazard nature of some chapters, in which groups of proverbs seem artificially stitched together. For instance, the line about cooking a small fish is juxtaposed to the lines “When dao brings everything into harmony/Demons have no power.” The Dao De Jing also includes a number of similar lines that seem to be based upon oral formulas. For instance, the line “dao endures without name” (in Chinese, Dao chang wu ming) reappears in a later chapter as “dao is hidden without name” (Dao yin wu ming).

Whether such formulas were originally used by Laozi, who would have been writing in the context of a predominantly oral culture, or by latter-day Laoists adapting traditional oral proverbs, both the individual chapters and the work as a whole have a collage effect--as if the author or Laoist editors were deliberately trying to subvert the discursive nature of the literary medium. Indeed, the power of the Dao De Jing, and its freshness to modern readers, seems to come from its informal ability to speak directly to them, seemingly bypassing the conventions and limitations of the manuscript or printed page. Even in translation, the work at times seems less like proverbial wisdom or literary poetry than a collection of song lyrics--a connection underscored by the rhyming structure of some chapters, which makes them reminiscent of Daoist hymns like those scattered throughout the Zhuangzi.

No original manuscript of the Dao De Jing exists. If it was a product of the fifth century b.c.e., it may have been written on bamboo stalks rather than paper--which may explain the lack of an extant copy. The earliest available complete text of the Dao De Jing is the edition of Wang Bi (226-249 c.e.), which includes his commentary. Although this continues to serve as the standard text, it suffers from some obvious errors. For instance, some of Wang Bi's commentaries refer to Chinese characters that are different from those in the passages glossed, while others refer to passages not included in the text. Subsequent editors, including Fu Yi, Ma Xulun, and Chen Zhu, have attempted to resolve these errors and eliminate obscurities in the text with the hope of restoring it to Laozi's original. Such redaction has led at times to rather extreme practices. For instance, guided by the belief that an older contemporary of Confucius authored the work, some editors have substituted older forms of Chinese characters in use in the sixth century b.c.e. for the newer variants in the Wang Bi text. Other editors with an eye on numerology have even reduced the number of characters in the Wang Bi text from 5,250 to an even 5,000.

Whether Wang Bi first divided the work into two books with a total of eighty-one chapters (thirty-seven devoted to dao and forty-four to de) remains unknown. However, most editors have agreed that the original text (or anthology) was not divided into chapters at all, allowing them to divide and rearrange the work as they have seen fit. If the dao that can be named is not the true dao, then it would seem that the Dao De Jing that can be definitively identified is not the true Dao De Jing. As if following Daoist principle, the book remains very much a living document, a work in progress as editors and scholars continue to debate not only the meaning of the text but the text itself. It remains one of the most translated works in world literature, second only to the Bible.

OVERVIEW

Perhaps more than any other ancient Chinese text, the Dao De Jing has been a center of philological dispute through the centuries. The first question is its authorship. The work is often attributed to Laozi. Sima Qian's Shi-ji (first century b.c.e.; Records of the Grand Historian of China, 1960; rev. ed. 1993), identifies Laozi as an official archivist in the capital Zhou, who lived in the late sixth century b.c.e. He was said to have composed the Dao De Jing all by himself shortly before he vanished beyond the mountains on the back of a blue water buffalo. In fact, the Dao De Jing contains many telltale features that point to its collective authorship; most probably it was not written by any single author but has grown into its present shape.

An understanding about the authorship of this work is important for a proper grasp of the central ideas behind the eighty-one short but epigrammatic and sometimes cryptic chapters in this work--for however poetically integrated these ideas may be around the central theme of a mystic quietism that dates as far back as the dawning of Chinese history, there are passages in this book alluding to the many different schools of thought that contended for intellectual dominance in the early Warring States period (403-222 b.c.e.). The voice (or voices, hereafter called the Daoist) speaking behind these epigrams is arguing against the Legalists (also called Realists), the Confucians, and the Mohists, but the voice also seems to borrow some of the arguments of its rivals. The borrowings are possibly due both to the coexistence of these arguments, as part of the common knowledge of the intellectuals at the time this book was first put together, and to the subsequent interpolations of commentaries that became hopelessly enmeshed with the original text.

The dao

A vague notion of the dao existed among the proto-philosophical ideas in ancient China long before any Daoists or Mohists or Confucians expounded their respective views on this concept. It stemmed, apparently, from an early effort of the Chinese mind to search into the mystery of the universe and to discover the rationale, if any, behind things. To name the unnamable, the Chinese borrowed this term, dao, or the Way. The ambiguous nature of this term allows it to serve several doctrines. Hence, to Confucius, dao means the Sage King's way to social harmony; to Mozi, dao means the way to ample supply of staple foods and a populous state; and to Mencius, dao means the way to moral (and spiritual) perfection. However, to a Daoist, dao could mean all these and more.

Throughout this work (and particularly in chapter 25), dao is described as the nameless beginning of all things, even prior to Heaven and Earth. dao is unchanging and permeates everything; hence, dao must be a kind of constant, universal principle that underlies all phenomena. dao has always existed and has no beginning of itself; hence, it must be comparable to the first cause. Everything in the universe patterns itself after the dictates of a higher being; humans, for example, pattern their ways after those of Heaven. However, dao, being supreme, follows itself. Hence, it suggests the ultimate pattern. dao “is so of itself,” without any outside force or influence. Above all, dao is “always so” because it is the dynamic principle of change. It dictates the rhythm of growth and decay, but because it is itself the principle of growth, it remains constant.

This argument is a frontal attack against the Legalists. The Legalists divide phenomena into rigid categories, and they demand that the rigidity of their system be maintained at all costs because they see no other essence of anything except its name. The Daoists point out, in chapter 1, that the named are but the manifestations of essence. They are only the crust. What lies behind them is the real essence, which is the source of all mysteries of the universe. In its application, the Daoist argument thus refutes the Legalists' emphasis on rules and regulations as the essential order of things.

As the first cause and the ultimate pattern, dao possesses infinite power without being powerful. It does not force anything to follow its way; yet everything by virtue of being itself will of itself follow dao, just as water will ultimately flow downward. Any interruption of this ultimate pattern can be only temporary. Why, then, should a ruler employ force, as the Legalists insist rulers must, in order to conquer and reign over the world? Violence contrived by people is against dao; if only the king possesses dao, all the world will obey him; even Heaven and Earth will bless him and come to his aid.

The Daoists speak metaphorically of dao, identifying it as the secret of all secrets, but they also go on to suggest a way of comprehending dao. Because dao is the unchanging universal principle that dwells in everything, everything in its original state reflects dao. In humans, the original state of existence, infancy, comes closest to this idea. If one does not tamper with one's heart (mind), so that the heart remains untainted, one has the best chance of comprehending this mysterious universal principle. Unspoiled, the dao in a tree trunk is as great and as efficacious as the dao filling the universe, so long as the tree trunk remains an “uncarved block.” If carved, the block of wood becomes a few ordinary articles of daily use. However, if one takes possession of the universal principle within an “uncarved block,” one becomes a sage fit for ruling the world.

Nonactivity and Unspoiled Nature

Like the Confucians, the Daoists also talk about the sages. However, the Daoist sage is not one who studies the classics, disciplines himself according to the rules of propriety, and preaches constantly to the rulers to be benevolent (as is recommended in Confucius's Lunyu (late sixth or early fifth century b.c.e.; Analects, 1861). On the contrary, Daoist sages have little use for words, because the words of dao are “simple and flavorless.” They do not occupy themselves with such useless motions as seeking audience with the rulers or teaching students, activities that kept the Confucians and the Mohists busy, because “dao never does, and yet through it all things are done.” The life of the people becomes proportionately impoverished as Confucian rituals and decorum multiply; thieves and bandits redouble at the same rate as the laws are promulgated. The Daoist sage “does nothing,” and the people of themselves behave properly. The anti-intellectual attitude of the Daoists leads them to stress nonactivity because only by refraining from useless motions can the state of the uncarved block be preserved.

Clearly nature in its primeval stage is the best example of the uncarved block. Consequently, unspoiled nature is regarded by the Daoists as the best place to observe the revelation of the universal principle, or dao. By observing nature, one learns to follow nature's way, the Way of dao. This acceptance of the way of nature as inevitable, regular, and normal leads to an attitude of resignation. It is not a negative attitude undertaken with a deep sigh of regret, but a joyful acceptance of what is the perfect pattern of things and events. Daoists do not hesitate to discourage humankind's efforts to undo what nature has done. They regard such efforts as useless even should people, out of ignorance and perversion, attempt to disobey the universal principle revealed in nature. Dao is like an immense boat that drifts freely and irresistibly according to its own will, the Daoists say, and therefore people do well to avoid butting their heads uselessly against this huge boat and instead to ride along in it. In this idea is found the seed of the Chinese concept that the strongest is the person who makes use of his or her enemy's strength--a concept that finds its prosaic expression in the theory of Chinese boxing. Behind this concept lies the reason that Daoists respect whatever appears to be soft, weak, and yielding.

The multiple metaphors in this work comparing the nature of dao to the secret, the dark, and the mysterious are not merely poetic embellishment but revelations of the strand of primitive quietism in Daoism. Among the proto-philosophical ideas of ancient China is the notion of yin-yang (negative-positive, or female-male), a pair of mutually complementary forces that are at work in and behind all phenomena. The yin force or element is characterized as passive, receiving, and meek (at least in appearance). Yet like the idea of the female or mother, yin also possesses the potential of infinite creation. Hence the yin principle is closer to dao. Dao is compared to “a ravine that receives all things” and, therefore, has unlimited power. In consonance with the yin characteristics, one who possesses dao (a sage) must hide power, for one who shows that power is really without power. A Daoist sage appears to be soft and weak because it is the “soft that overcomes the hard, and the weak, the strong,” and because dao itself is unostentatious; dao “produces, clothes, and feeds” all beings without claiming mastery over them, yet everything submits itself to dao. For the same reason, Daoists praise the infant who is soft and weak and yet is most strong because in the child the universal essence is not dissipated and the harmony of yin and yang is still perfect.

In this concept lies the Daoist relativity of attributes. To Daoists, nothing is absolute except dao itself. Without short, there cannot be long. Thus, a Daoist dismisses the validity of the effort of members of the School of Names to distinguish the white of a white horse from the white of a white jade. In doing so, the Daoists also dismiss the Confucian effort to distinguish good from bad as useless trifling. Just as long and short have nothing to do with the essence of things, death and life are also two manifestations of what is so of itself (natural). To treasure the good, to prefer the rich, and to cherish life are equally meaningless, equally foolish to one having arrived at dao.

Because there is no real difference between acting and not acting, the person who does nothing accomplishes most. This concept of nonactivity, coupled with the idea that the person who “moves not” endures the longest, strengthens the Daoist belief in quietism.

Throughout the Dao De Jing, there are repeated hints at a process of attaining dao. The Daoist urges people to retain their untainted and untampered hearts and to return to a state of infancy, desirable because of its undissipated essence. The expression for essence here is qi. Generally understood as “gaseous matters,” qi in ancient Chinese cosmology is closely tied in with spirit as distinguished from physical substance. In people, qi is identified with breath as separate from flesh and bones. The Daoist regards people's qi as part of the universal qi, or humanity's life-force. Hence, to avoid dissipation, people must attempt to preserve their life-force, and this effort turns out to be a process of breath control. Indeed the subsequent development of magical Daoism shows many features parallel to the esoteric Indian yoga. Practitioners of Daoist magic can always cite certain passages from this work for authority. For instance, at least one line (in chapter 55) tends to support the practice of sexual hygiene as a means of achieving dao.

Mysticism thickens around Daoists when they claim that neither poisonous insects nor wild animals can harm the infant, or that by fixing one's gaze in meditation one can achieve longevity. Three aspects are involved in these claims. First, the Daoist actually believes in a certain kind of yoga practice to prolong this life on earth. Second, in the Daoist vocabulary, the word for longevity may mean endurance. That which endures in people is their essence, which is part of the universal essence. People may die, but as long as they do not lose their essence, they actually endure. The manifestation of a person's essence may take different forms, such as a tree or a rock, but an individual's essence remains unchanged, resulting in longevity. Third, by promoting life-nurture, the Daoist stood opposed to another school of thought prevailing at that time. Led by a philosopher named Yang Zhu, this school advocated total gratification of the physical senses as the real goal of life and the road to salvation, a doctrine clearly contrary to the Daoist emphasis on quietism.

To be with dao is to be free, according to the Dao De Jing. People who are with dao are free because they have the infinite power that enables them to do whatever they please while they stay within dao. Metaphysically this freedom should mean spiritual emancipation and salvation--a liberation of people from the bondage of their limited orbit in this earthly world. However, it can readily be seen how a person with political ambitions or a magical bent of mind could make use of this theory. This work contains mystic references to “travels in spirit” that take a person with dao through space and time to ethereal realms. It has been suggested that this work must have had a southern Chinese origin, as some passages in it allude to a southern setting. The area south of the Yangzi (Chang Jiang) River was rich in shamanistic tradition, and a book of southern songs, collected at about the same time as the Dao De Jing, contains descriptions of similar spirit travels. These supernatural feats were probably part of the shamanistic belief common in the Warring States period along the middle reaches of the Yangzi River. The shamans induced trances with prayers and dances as well as through concentration and yogalike hypnotism. Later in magical Daoism there appears a True Person, a Daoist adept at having acquired the powers to perform these superhuman feats.

Nature

The Dao De Jing, like most Chinese classics originating during the Warring States period, was intended to serve more as a political manual than as a purely metaphysical treatise. However, the metaphysical speculations in this book are provocative enough to have inspired many developments--some occult, some seriously philosophical--in the history of Chinese thought. The concept of nature is one of them.

Nature in the Dao De Jing is amoral because it is one manifestation of the universal essence. Nature does not house more dao than an infant or a tree trunk, yet nature by its grandeur has a special appeal to the Daoist. The unchanging mountains, as contrasted with the changing affairs of humanity, symbolize for the Daoist the principle of nonactivity, and a calm lake expresses the idea of quietude. A profound appreciation of nature, at once aesthetic and mystic, stems from this Daoist attitude and forms the basis of a concept of nature that has played an important role in Chinese poetry and art. In philosophy, the concept of nature became the native stock on which Indian Mahayana Buddhism was grafted to bear the fruits of Chinese Chan (Zen) Buddhism.

Nature also has its violent moods. Its wild destructive forces must have been the inspiration behind the passage in the Dao De Jing that refers to Heaven and Earth as unkind because “they treat all beings like straw dogs,” or expendable sacrificial objects. However, kindness has no place in dao which is “always so” and unchanging. The Daoist making the foregoing remark is not criticizing nature but rather is stating an actuality. This attitude has encouraged many people to embrace a political absolutism that they justify and defend using the dao.

The esoteric elements in Daoism encouraged the accumulation of magical formulas and alchemy, and through the years, they influenced a large area in Chinese folk religion. A city of Daoist gods has been constructed. A Daoist clerical and lay tradition and a library of Daoist scriptures have grown to impressive proportions.

The Dao De Jing deserves credit as an enduring expression of basic Chinese philosophy. The belief in the existence of a universal principle, having received such eloquent and poetic expression in this book, leads contemplative minds to search for the profound and the true in nature and in humanity.

Principal Ideas Advanced

•Dao, the Way, is the nameless beginning of things, the universal principle underlying everything, the supreme, ultimate pattern, and the principle of growth.

•If one takes possession of the dao, the universal principle, one becomes a sage fit for ruling the world.

•By observing nature, one learns to follow the Way, the dao.

•One who possesses dao must hide power and appear soft and weak, for the people who show their power are without power, and the soft overcomes the hard.

•To attain dao, a person must return to the state of infancy, avoid action, and preserve the breath, the life-force, by breath control.

Bibliography

Chan, Wing-tsit. The Way of Lao Tzu. Indianapolis, Ind.: Bobbs-Merrill, 1963. The best one-volume study of the Dao De Jing, with exhaustive discussion of the controversies surrounding its dating and the identity of its author. Good analytical comparisons between the philosophies of Laozi, Confucius, and Zhuangzi.

Graham, A. C. Disputers of the Tao: Philosophical Argument in Ancient China. La Salle, Ill.: Open Court, 1989. A thorough intellectual history of Daoism's place within the one hundred schools.

Kohn, Livia. Early Chinese Mysticism: Philosophy and Soteriology in the Taoist Tradition. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1991. An exploration of the cross-fertilization of Daoism and Chan (or Zen) Buddhism.

Kohn, Livia, and Michael LaFargue, eds. Lao-tzu and the “Tao-te-ching.” Albany: State University of New York, 1998. This work compares traditional Chinese and Western interpretations of the Dao De Jing and Eastern and Western views of Laozi. Includes index.

LaFargue, Michael. The Tao of the Tao Te Ching: A Translation and Commentary. Albany: State University Press of New York, 1992. The commentary includes a detailed summary of the author's oral tradition theory.

LaFargue, Michael. Tao and Method: A Reasoned Approach to the Tao Te Ching. Albany: State University Press of New York, 1994. Excellent exposition of the theory that the work was derived from oral tradition by a group of Laoist editors.

Tao Te Ching. Translated by Stephen Addis and Stanley Lombardo. With an introduction by Burton Watson. Indianapolis, Ind.: Hackett, 1993. An English translation that includes both Chinese characters and romanized spellings in the text. Includes a glossary and pronunciation guide.

Tao Te Ching. Translated by D. C. Lau. Middlesex, England: Penguin Books, 1963. The translation is at times bland, but the introduction effectively places the work within the context of Chinese literary history.

Tao Te Ching. English Commentary on the Lao Tzu by Wang Pi. Translated by Ariane Rump in collaboration with Wing-tsit Chan. Honolulu: University Press of Hawaii, 1979. A readable translation of the Wang Bi edition and commentary.

Waley, Arthur. The Way and Its Powers: A Study of the Tao Te Ching and Its Place in Chinese Thought. London: George Allen & Unwin, 1934. One of the best known translations in English. The introduction is long and meandering, but the background material on the one hundred schools is enlightening.

Wong, Eva. The Shambhala Guide to Taoism. Boston: Shambhala, 1997. An informal introduction to Daoist philosophy.