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They said Heaven could not work through a woman until Heaven plainly did. I used the examination system, Buddhist prophecy, court intelligence, and administrative talent wherever I found it. Men call methods ruthless when they lose to them. I called mine government.

The artist Zhang Lu painted me in the Ming dynasty riding an ox westward — toward the pass where, the story says, I stopped to write the Tao Te Ching before disappearing from history. The ox is calm. I am old. The road ends at the border of the known world.

I am said to have lived one hundred and sixty years, or two hundred and sixty years. I am said to...

I did not write the Analects. My students assembled them after my death — perhaps over several generations — collecting the conversations and teachings they had memorised. The Analects are therefore the remembered Confucius, which is a different thing from the literal Confucius. I am content with this. What survives of a teacher is always a...

The portraits of me are all imaginary. There is no image from life. I existed — the Art of War is too specific to be a forgery — but the details are contested. The king of Wu tested me, I am told, by asking me to drill his concubines. Two of them laughed during the exercise. I had them executed. The others drilled perfectly.

This story is probably...

The portraits in the Kong Miao — the Temple of Confucius in Qufu — were made centuries after my death, based on earlier images that were themselves made from memory and tradition. I look serene. I was not always serene. I spent fourteen years travelling between the states of Zhou China, seeking a ruler who would implement my ideas of benevolent governance....

Once I dreamed I was a butterfly — fluttering about, completely a butterfly, aware only of my existence as a butterfly, with no awareness of Zhuangzi. Then I woke, and there I was, unambiguously Zhuangzi. But I do not know: was I then a man dreaming of being a butterfly, or am I now a butterfly dreaming of being a man?

This is not a riddle requiring a...

When you surround an army, leave an outlet free. Do not press a desperate foe too hard. A rat in a corner bites harder than a wolf in the open. The enemy who has nothing to lose becomes capable of things he was incapable of before.

Treat your men as you would your own beloved sons. And they will follow you into the deepest valley. The commander who is severe but unjust will lose his army before the enemy has touched it. Loyalty is not purchased with pay; it is earned with character.

Water shapes its course according to the nature of the ground over which it flows. The soldier works out his victory in relation to the foe he is facing. Therefore, just as water retains no constant shape, in warfare there are no constant conditions.

Move swift as the Wind and closely-formed as the Wood. Attack like the Fire and be still as the Mountain. The art is not in choosing between these modes but in knowing when each is called for. A general who is only swift becomes predictable. Unpredictability requires the full range.

The general who wins the battle makes many calculations in his temple before the battle is fought. The general who loses makes but few calculations beforehand. Many calculations lead to victory; few calculations to defeat. By this means I examine the situation and the outcome is apparent.

All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must seem inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near.