Lao Tzu

from the Dao De Jing

The Master stays behind;
that is why he is ahead.
He is detached from all things;
that is why he is one with them.
Because he has let go of himself,
he is perfectly fulfilled.

The supreme good is like water,
which nourishes all things without trying to.
It is content with the low places that people disdain.
Thus it is like the Dao.

In dwelling, live close to the ground.
In thinking, keep to the simple.
In conflict, be fair and generous.
In governing, don't try to control.
In work, do what you enjoy.
In family life, be completely present.

When you are content to be simply yourself
and don't compare or compete,
everybody will respect you.

Fill your bowl to the brim
and it will spill.
Keep sharpening your knife
and it will blunt.
Chase after money and security
and your heart will never unclench.
Care about people's approval
and you will be their prisoner.
Do your work, then step back.
The only path to serenity.

Stop thinking, and end your problems.
What difference between yes and no?
What difference between success and failure?
Must you value what others value,
avoid what others avoid?
How ridiculous!

Other people are excited,
as though they were at a parade.
I alone don't care,
I alone am expressionless,
like an infant before it can smile.

Other people have what they need;
I alone possess nothing.
I alone drift about,
like someone without a home.
I am like an idiot my mind is so empty.

Other people are bright;
I alone am dark.
Other people are sharp;
I alone am dull.
Other people have a purpose;
I alone don't know.
I drift like a wave on the ocean,
I blow as aimless as the wind.

Free from desire, you realize the mystery.
Caught in desire, you see only the manifestations.
Yet mystery and manifestations arise from the same source.
This source is called darkness.
Darkness within darkness.
The gateway to all understanding.

A good traveller has no fixed plans
and is not intent upon arriving.
A good artist lets his intuition
lead him wherver it wants.
A good scientist has freed himself of concepts
and keeps his mind open to what is.
Thus the Master is available to all people
and doesn't reject anyone.
He is ready to use all situations
and doesn't waste anything.
What is a good man but a bad man's teacher?
What is a bad man but a good man's job?
If you don't understand this, you will get lost,
however intelligent you are.
It is the great secret.

Express yourself completely,
then keep quiet.
Be like the forces of nature:
when it blows, there is only wind;
when it rains, there is only rain;
when the clouds pass, the sun shines through.

The Catcher in the Rye

J.D. Salinger

Anyway, I keep picturing these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all.  Thousands of little kids, and nobody's around- nobody big, I mean- except me.  And I'm standing on the edge of some crazy cliff.  What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff- I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them.  That's all I'd do all day.  I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all.  I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be.  I know it's crazy.

     "Did you ever get fed up?" I said.  "I mean did you ever get scared that everything was going to go lousy unless you did something?"  
     "But it isn't just that.  It's everything.  I hate living in New York and all.  Taxicabs, and Madison Avenue buses, with the drivers always yelling at you to get out at the rear door, and being introduced to phony guys that call the Lunts angels, and going up and down in elevators when you just want to go outside, and guys fitting your pants all the time at Brooks, and people always-"
     "Don't shout, please," old Sally said.  Which was very funny, because I wasn't even shouting.
     "Take cars," I said.  I said it in this very quiet voice.  "Take most people, they're crazy about cars.  They worry if they get a little scratch on them, and they're always talking about how many miles they get to a gallon, and if they get a brand-new car already they start thinking about trading it in for one that's even newer.  I don't even like old cars.  I mean they don't even interest me.  I'd rather have a goddam horse.  A horse is at least human, for God's sake.  A horse you can at least-"
     "I don't know what you're even talking about," old Sally said.  "You jump from one-"
     "You know something?" I said.  "You're probably the only reason I'm in New York right now, or anywhere.  If you weren't around, I'd probably be someplace way the hell off.  In the woods or some goddam place.  You're the only reason I'm around practically."
     "You're sweet," she said.  But you could tell she wanted me to change the damn subject.
     "You ought to go to a boy's school sometime,"  I said.  "It's full of phonies, and all you dois study so that you can learn enough to be smart enough to be able to buy a goddam Cadillac someday, and you have to keep making believe you give a damn if the football team loses, and all you do is talk about girls and liquor and sex all day, and everybody sticks together in these dirty little goddam cliques.  The guys that are on the basketball team stick together, the Catholics stick together, the goddam intellectuals stick together, the guys that play bridge stick together.  Even the guys that belong to the goddam Book-of-the-Month Club stick together.  If you try to have a little intelligent-"
     "Now, listen," old Sally said.  "Lots of boys get more out of school than that."
     "I agree!  I agree they do, some of them!  But that's all I get out of it.  See?  That's my point.  That's exactly my goddam point," I said.  "I don't get hardly anything out of anything.  I'm in bad shape.  I'm in lousy shape."
     "You certainly are."
     Then, all of a sudden, I got this idea.
     "Look," I said.  "Here's my idea.  How would you like to get the hell out of here?  Here's my idea.  I know this guy down in Greenwich Village that we can borrow his car for a couple of weeks.  He used to go to the same school I did and he still owes me ten bucks.  What we could do is, tomorrow morning we could drive up to Massachusetts and Vermont, and all around there, see.  It's beautiful as hell up there.  It really is."  I was getting excited as hell, the more I thought of it, and I sort of reached over and took old Sally's goddam hand.  What a goddam FOOL I was.  "No kidding," I said.  "I have about a hundred and eighty bucks in the bank.  I can take it out when it opens in the morning, and then I could go down and get this guy's car.  No kidding.  We'll stay in these cabin camps and stuff like that till the dough runs out.  Then, when then dough runs out, I could get a job somewhere and we could live somewhere with a brook and all and, later on, we could get married or something.  I could chop all our own wood in the wintertime and all.  Honest to God, we could have a terrific time!  Wuddaya say?  C'mon!  Wuddaya say?  Will you do it with me?  Please!"
     "You can't just do something like that," old Sally said.  She sounded sore as hell.
     "Why not?  Why the hell not?"
     "Stop screaming at me, please," she said.  Which was crap, because I wasn't even screaming at her.  
     "Why can'tcha?  Why not?"
     "Because you can't, that's all.  In the first place, we're both practically children.  And did you ever stop to think what you'd do if you didn't get a job when your money ran out?  We'd starve to death.  The whole things so fantastic, it isn't even-"
     "It isn't fantastic.  I'd get a job.  Don't worry about that.  You don't have to worry about that.  What's the matter?  Don't you want to go with me?  Say so, if you don't."
     "It isn't that.  It isn't that at all," old Sally said.  I was beginning to hate her, in a way.  "We'll have oodles of time to do those things- all those things.  I mean after you go to college and all, and if we should get married and all.  There'll be oodles of marvelous places to go.  You're just-"
     "No, there wouldn't be.  There wouldn't be oodles of places to go and all.  It'd be entirely different," I said.  I was getting depressed as hell again.
     "What?" she said.  "I can't hear you.  One minute you scream at me, and the next you-"
     "I said no, there wouldn't be marvelous places to go to after I went to college and all.  Open your ears.  It'd be entirely different.  We'd have to go downstairs in elevators with suitcases and stuff.  We'd have to phone up everybody and tell 'em good-by and send 'em postcards from hotels and all.  And I'd be working in some office, making a lot of dough, and riding to work in cabs and Madison Avenue buses, and reading newpapers, and playing bridge all the time, and going to the movies and seeing a lot of stupid shorts and coming attractions and newsreels.  It wouldn't be the same at all.  You don' see what I mean at all."  
     "Maybe I don't!  Maybe you don't, either," old Sally said.  We both hated each other's guts by that time.  You could see there wasn't any sense trying to have an intelligent conversation.  I was sorry as hell I'd started it.  
     "C'mon, let's get outa here," I said.  "You give me a royal pain in the ass, if you want to know the truth."
     Boy, did she hit the ceiling when I said that.  I know I shouldn't have said it, and I probably wouldn't've ordinarily, but she was depressing the hell out of me.  Usually I never say crude things like that to girls.  Boy, did she hit the ceiling.  I apologized like a madman, but she wouldn't accept my apology.  She was even crying.  Which scared me a little bit...
     "No kidding.  I'm sorry," I kept telling her.
     "You're sorry.  You're sorry.  That's very funny," she said.  She was still sort of crying, and all of a sudden I did feel sort of sorry I'd said it.
     "C'mon, I'll take ya home.  No kidding."
     "I can go home by myself, thank you.  If you think I'd let you take me home, you're mad.  No boy ever said that to me in my entire life."
     The whole thing was sort of funny, in a way, if you thought about it, and all of a sudden I did something I shouldn't have.  I laughed.  And I have one of these very loud, stupid laughs.  I mean if I ever sat behind myself in a movie or something, I'd probably lean over and tell myself to please shut up.  It made old Sally madder than ever.  
     I stuck around for a while, apologizing and trying to get her to excuse me, but she wouldn't.  She kept telling me to go away and leave her alone.  So finally I did it.  I went inside and got my shoes and stuff, and left without her.  I shouldn't've, but I was pretty god damn fed up by that time.
     If you want to know the truth, I don't even know why I started all that stuff with her.  I mean about going away somewhere, to Massachussetts and Vermont and all.  I probably wouldn't've taken her even if she'd wanted to go with me.  She wouldn't have been anybody to go with.  The terrible part, though, is that I meant it when I asked her.  That's the terrible part.  I swear to God I'm a madman.