The old homeland, the old city - just to gaze at it from afar is to feel a flush of joy. Even when its hills and mounds are a tangle of weeds and brush, and nine out of ten of the ones you knew have gone to lie under them, still you feel joyful. How much more so, then, when you see those you used to see, when you hear the voices you used to hear - they stand out like eighty-foot towers among the crowd.Go here to read the introductory post to the chapters of the Book of Chuang Tzu.
Mr. Jen-hsiang held on to the empty socket and followed along to completion. Joining with things, he knew no end, no beginning, no year, no season. And because he changed day by day with things, he was one with the man who never changes - so why should he ever try to stop doing this? He who tries to make Heaven his teacher will never get Heaven to teach him - he will end up following blindly along with all other things, and then no matter how he goes about it, what can he do?
The sage has never begun to think of Heaven, has never begun to think of man, has never begun to think of a beginning, has never begun to think of things. He moves in company with the age, never halting; wherever he moves he finds completion and no impediment. Others try to keep up with him, but what can they do?
~ Burton Watson translation via Terebess Asia Online ~