Čuang-c' citáty

„Zrození člověka je zrozením jeho strastí. Čím déle žije, tím hloupějším se stává, neboť jeho úzkost vyhnout se nevyhnutelné smrti je stále aktuálnější. Jaká trpkost!
Žije pro něco, co je vždy mimo dosah! Jeho žízeň po přežití v budoucnu mu bere schopnost žít v přítomnosti.“

—  Čuang-c'

„Člověk se nedívá do tekoucí vody, aby uzřel svůj odraz, nýbrž do vody, jež je v klidu. Jen kdo je sám klidný, může uvést všechno do klidu.“

—  Čuang-c'

„Blahořečím onomu času, kdy lidé žili svorně se zvířaty bok po boku a tvořili s deseti tisíci bytostmi jednu velkou rodinu.“

—  Čuang-c'

„Dokonalý člověk užívá svého srdce jako zrcadla. Nejde za věcmi, ani jim nejde vstříc: zrcadlí je, ale nepodržuje jich. Proto může překonat svět a zůstat nezraněn. Není otrokem své slávy, nemá pánů, nežene se za činností, nežene se za pozváním. Všímá si i toho nejmenšího, a přece je nevyčerpatelný, neboť je nad svým já.“

—  Čuang-c'

„Zdálo se Čuangovi, že je motýl, jenž poletuje kolem, motýl se cítil motýlem, nic mu nechybělo, nevěděl, že je Čuang. Náhle se probudil a ustrnul, je Čuang! A teď neví, zdálo se Čuangovi, že je motýl, nebo se zdá nyní motýlu, že je Čuang? Čuang nebo motýl, přece tu musí být nějaký rozdíl! A tomu se říká proměnlivost věcí!“

—  Čuang-c'

Z knihy Mistr Zhuang: Sebrané spisy

„Krtek si bříško naplnil, a přece řeku nevypil.“

—  Čuang-c'

„Mysl dokonalého člověka je jako zrcadlo. Nic nezachycuje. Nic neočekává. Odráží, ale nezadržuje. Tudíž dokonalý člověk může jednat bez úsilí.“

—  Čuang-c'

„Kdo ukradne háček na ryby, je popraven, kdo ukradne zemi, stane se prvním ministrem.“

—  Čuang-c'

„Narození a umírání, život a smrt, úspěch a neúspěch, chudoba a bohatství, důstojnost a nedůstojnost, chvála a hana, hlad a žízeň, horko a zima se střídají v běhu událostí, jako to odpovídá cestám osudu. Nestojí proto za to, nechat si tím vším rušit vnitřní souzvuk.“

—  Čuang-c'

„Today, I went to sleep under a plum tree. There, I dreamed I was a butterfly, flying so pleasently. Then, I fell asleep, and the dream ended. Now- I have to ask myself - am I Zhuang Zi who dreamed of a butterfly? Or am I that butterfly, dreaming I am Zhuang Zi?“

—  Zhuangzi

„Flow with whatever may happen, and let your mind be free: Stay centered by accepting whatever you are doing. This is the ultimate.“

—  Zhuangzi

Zdroj: Nan-Hua-Ch'en-Ching, or, the Treatise of the transcendent master from Nan-Hua

„Words are for meaning: when you've got the meaning, you can forget the words.“

—  Zhuangzi

Originál: (zh_Hant) 荃者所以在魚，得魚而忘荃；蹄者所以在兔，得兔而忘蹄；言者所以在意，得意而忘言。吾安得忘言之人而與之言哉！
Varianta: "Where can I find a man who has forgotten words? He is the one I would like to talk to."
Kontext: A trap is for fish: when you've got the fish, you can forget the trap. A snare is for rabbits: when you've got the rabbit, you can forget the snare. Words are for meaning: when you've got the meaning, you can forget the words. Where can I find someone who's forgotten words so I can have a word with him?...

„Rewards and punishment is the lowest form of education.“

—  Zhuangzi

„Moreover, I have heard that those who are fond of praising men to their faces are also fond of damning them behind their backs.“

—  Zhuangzi

Zdroj: The Complete Works of Chuang Tzu

„If a man, having lashed two hulls together, is crossing a river, and an empty boat happens along and bumps into him, no matter how hot-tempered the man may be, he will not get angry. But if there should be someone in the other boat, then he will shout out to haul this way or veer that. If his first shout is unheeded, he will shout again, and if that is not heard, he will shout a third time, this time with a torrent of curses following. In the first instance, he wasn't angry; now in the second he is. Earlier he faced emptiness, now he faces occupancy. If a man could succeed in making himself empty, and in that way wander through the world, then who could do him harm?“

—  Zhuangzi

„You and Confucius are both dreaming, and I who say you are a dream am also a dream. Such is my tale. It will probably be called preposterous, but after ten thousand generations there may be a great sage who will be able to explain it, a trivial interval equivalent to the passage from morning to night.“

—  Zhuangzi

Kontext: How do I know that enjoying life is not a delusion? How do I know that in hating death we are not like people who got lost in early childhood and do not know the way home? Lady Li was the child of a border guard in Ai. When first captured by the state of Jin, she wept so much her clothes were soaked. But after she entered the palace, shared the king's bed, and dined on the finest meats, she regretted her tears. How do I know that the dead do not regret their previous longing for life? One who dreams of drinking wine may in the morning weep; one who dreams weeping may in the morning go out to hunt. During our dreams we do not know we are dreaming. We may even dream of interpreting a dream. Only on waking do we know it was a dream. Only after the great awakening will we realize that this is the great dream. And yet fools think they are awake, presuming to know that they are rulers or herdsmen. How dense! You and Confucius are both dreaming, and I who say you are a dream am also a dream. Such is my tale. It will probably be called preposterous, but after ten thousand generations there may be a great sage who will be able to explain it, a trivial interval equivalent to the passage from morning to night.

„Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man.“

—  Zhuangzi

As translated by Lin Yutang
Alternative translations
Once upon a time, I, Chuang Chou, dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, a veritable butterfly, enjoying itself to the full of its bent, and not knowing it was Chuang Chou. Suddenly I awoke, and came to myself, the veritable Chuang Chou. Now I do not know whether it was then I dreamt I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly dreaming I am a man. Between me and the butterfly there must be a difference. This is an instance of transformation.
As translated by James Legge, and quoted in The Three Religions of China: Lectures Delivered at Oxford (1913) by William Edward Soothill, p. 75
Once Zhuang Zhou dreamed he was a butterfly, a fluttering butterfly. What fun he had, doing as he pleased! He did not know he was Zhou. Suddenly he woke up and found himself to be Zhou. He did not know whether Zhou had dreamed he was a butterfly or a butterfly had dreamed he was Zhou. Between Zhou and the butterfly there must be some distinction. This is what is meant by the transformation of things.
One night, Zhuangzi dreamed of being a butterfly — a happy butterfly, showing off and doing things as he pleased, unaware of being Zhuangzi. Suddenly he awoke, drowsily, Zhuangzi again. And he could not tell whether it was Zhuangzi who had dreamt the butterfly or the butterfly dreaming Zhuangzi. But there must be some difference between them! This is called 'the transformation of things'.
Once upon a time, Chuang Chou dreamed that he was a butterfly, a butterfly flitting about happily enjoying himself. He didn’t know that he was Chou. Suddenly he awoke and was palpably Chou. He didn’t know whether he were Chou who had dreamed of being a butterfly, or a butterfly who was dreaming that he was Chou.
Originál: (zh_Hant) 昔者莊周夢為蝴蝶，栩栩然蝴蝶也，自喻適志與，不知周也。俄然覺，則戚戚然周也。不知周之夢為蝴蝶與，蝴蝶之夢為周與？週與蝴蝶則必有分矣。此之謂物化。 (traditional)
Kontext: Once upon a time, I, Chuang Chou, dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes a butterfly. I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I was Chou. Soon I awaked, and there I was, veritably myself again. Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man. Between a man and a butterfly there is necessarily a distinction. The transition is called the transformation of material things.

„How do I know that the dead do not regret their previous longing for life?“

—  Zhuangzi

Kontext: How do I know that enjoying life is not a delusion? How do I know that in hating death we are not like people who got lost in early childhood and do not know the way home? Lady Li was the child of a border guard in Ai. When first captured by the state of Jin, she wept so much her clothes were soaked. But after she entered the palace, shared the king's bed, and dined on the finest meats, she regretted her tears. How do I know that the dead do not regret their previous longing for life? One who dreams of drinking wine may in the morning weep; one who dreams weeping may in the morning go out to hunt. During our dreams we do not know we are dreaming. We may even dream of interpreting a dream. Only on waking do we know it was a dream. Only after the great awakening will we realize that this is the great dream. And yet fools think they are awake, presuming to know that they are rulers or herdsmen. How dense! You and Confucius are both dreaming, and I who say you are a dream am also a dream. Such is my tale. It will probably be called preposterous, but after ten thousand generations there may be a great sage who will be able to explain it, a trivial interval equivalent to the passage from morning to night.

„Once upon a time, I, Chuang Chou, dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes a butterfly.“

—  Zhuangzi

As translated by Lin Yutang
Alternative translations
Once upon a time, I, Chuang Chou, dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, a veritable butterfly, enjoying itself to the full of its bent, and not knowing it was Chuang Chou. Suddenly I awoke, and came to myself, the veritable Chuang Chou. Now I do not know whether it was then I dreamt I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly dreaming I am a man. Between me and the butterfly there must be a difference. This is an instance of transformation.
As translated by James Legge, and quoted in The Three Religions of China: Lectures Delivered at Oxford (1913) by William Edward Soothill, p. 75
Once Zhuang Zhou dreamed he was a butterfly, a fluttering butterfly. What fun he had, doing as he pleased! He did not know he was Zhou. Suddenly he woke up and found himself to be Zhou. He did not know whether Zhou had dreamed he was a butterfly or a butterfly had dreamed he was Zhou. Between Zhou and the butterfly there must be some distinction. This is what is meant by the transformation of things.
One night, Zhuangzi dreamed of being a butterfly — a happy butterfly, showing off and doing things as he pleased, unaware of being Zhuangzi. Suddenly he awoke, drowsily, Zhuangzi again. And he could not tell whether it was Zhuangzi who had dreamt the butterfly or the butterfly dreaming Zhuangzi. But there must be some difference between them! This is called 'the transformation of things'.
Once upon a time, Chuang Chou dreamed that he was a butterfly, a butterfly flitting about happily enjoying himself. He didn’t know that he was Chou. Suddenly he awoke and was palpably Chou. He didn’t know whether he were Chou who had dreamed of being a butterfly, or a butterfly who was dreaming that he was Chou.
Originál: (zh_Hant) 昔者莊周夢為蝴蝶，栩栩然蝴蝶也，自喻適志與，不知周也。俄然覺，則戚戚然周也。不知周之夢為蝴蝶與，蝴蝶之夢為周與？週與蝴蝶則必有分矣。此之謂物化。 (traditional)
Kontext: Once upon a time, I, Chuang Chou, dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes a butterfly. I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I was Chou. Soon I awaked, and there I was, veritably myself again. Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man. Between a man and a butterfly there is necessarily a distinction. The transition is called the transformation of material things.