El sonido del agua dice lo que pienso. Su mente está libre de todo pensamiento. Su proceder es sereno y silencioso. Su frente reluce con sencillez. E… - Zhuang Zhou

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El sonido del agua dice lo que pienso.
Su mente está libre de todo pensamiento. Su proceder es sereno y silencioso. Su frente reluce con sencillez. Es frío como el otoño y cálido como la primavera, porque su goce y su ira se suceden tan naturalmente como las cuatro estaciones.

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About Zhuang Zhou

莊子 Zhūangzi (c. 369 BC – c. 286 BC), literally Master Zhuang, was a Chinese philosopher, who is supposed to have lived during the Warring States Period, corresponding to the Hundred Schools of Thought. His name is also transliterated as Zhuang Zi, Zhuang Zhou, Chuang Tzu, Chuang Tse. Chuang was his surname and Tse indicates master; so he would be referred to as Master Chuang. You will also see his name given as "Chuang Chou" or "Zhuang Zhu", this was his proper name, first and last, not an alternate spelling of "Chuang Tzu" or "Zhuangzi".

Biography information from Wikiquote

Also Known As

Native Name: 莊子 庄子
Alternative Names: Zhuang Zi Chuang Tzŭ Chuang Tzu Chuangtzŭ Chuangtzu Chuang Chou Master Zhuang Tchouang-tse Chuang-tzu Chuang-tse Zhuangzi Zhuang zi

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Additional quotes by Zhuang Zhou

The fish trap exists because of the fish; once you’ve gotten the fish, you can forget the trap. The rabbit snare exists because of the rabbit; once you’ve gotten the rabbit, you can forget the snare. Words exist because of meaning; once you’ve gotten the meaning, you can forget the words. Where can I find a man who has forgotten words so I can have a word with him?

Duke Huan was in his hall reading a book. The wheelwright P’ien, who was in the yard below chiselling a wheel, laid down his mallet and chisel, stepped up into the hall, and said to Duke Huan, ‘This book Your Grace is reading—may I venture to ask whose words are in it?’ ‘The words of the sages,’ said the duke. ‘Are the sages still alive?’ ‘Dead long ago,’ said the duke. ‘In that case, what you are reading there is nothing but the chaff and dregs of the men of old!’ ‘Since when does a wheelwright have permission to comment on the books I read?’ said Duke Huan. ‘If you have some explanation, well and good. If not, it’s your life!’ Wheelwright P’ien said, ‘I look at it from the point of view of my own work. When I chisel a wheel, if the blows of the mallet are too gentle, the chisel slides and won’t take hold. But if they’re too hard, it bites in and won’t budge. Not too gentle, not too hard—you can get it in your hand and feel it in your mind. You can’t put it into words, and yet there’s a knack to it somehow. I can’t teach it to my son, and he can’t learn it from me. So I’ve gone along for seventy years and at my age I’m still chiselling wheels. When the men of old died, they took with them the things that couldn’t be handed down. So what you are reading there must be nothing but the chaff and dregs of the men of old.’

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