He’s the guy who said he wasn’t sure whether he was a man dreaming he was a butterfly or a butterfly dreaming he was a man.

It’s said that when his wife died his friend found him drumming and singing. When asked why he was behaving inappropriately, he said. “if I weren’t singing I would cry, and then I would have forgotten that all things are constantly transitioning into something else.”

There’s also a certain amount of philosophical one-up-manship.

‘Inner’ Chapters, written by Zhuangzi with scholarly comments and context: https://scholarworks.iu.edu/dspace/handle/2022/23427
‘Outer’ Chapters with chinese text (sorry probably better options out there): https://ctext.org/zhuangzi/outer-chapters
Niether Lord Nor Subject, by Bao Jingyan (another daoist text I find incredibly beautiful and calming. It’s ~8min): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gs23tDAaEho

Ziyu fell ill. Zisi went to see how he was. “How remarkable!” said Ziyu. “The Creator of things is making me into this hooked shape. A hump has thrust up from my back, my five viscera are top-wards, my cheeks are in the shadow of my belly, my shoulders rise above my head, and my pigtail is pointing at the sky! It must be some dislocation of my yin and yang qi.”
Yet he was calm at heart and unconcerned. Crawling to the well, he looked in at his reflection.
“Oh, my! The Creator’s made me even more crooked!”
“Do you resent it?” asked Zisi.
“Why, no! What is there to resent? If this goes on perhaps he’ll turn my left arm into a rooster and I’ll keep watch over the night. Or perhaps in time he’ll transform my right arm into a crossbow pellet and I’ll shoot down an owl to roast. Or perhaps he’ll turn my buttocks into cartwheels and I’ll ascend into the sky with my spirit as my horse! Why would I ever want a new carriage again?
“I received life because the season had come. I will lose it in the flow of time. Content with the seasons and dwelling in the flow of time, neither sorrow nor joy can get within me. In ancient times this was called ‘untying the bonds.’ There are those who cannot free themselves because they are bound by things. Besides, no thing can ever prevail over Heaven – that’s the way it has always been. What would I have to resent?”
…
“The Great Clod burdens me with form, labors me with life, eases me in old age, rests me in death. So if I think well of my life, for the same reason I must think well of my death. Were a skilled smith casting metal, if the metal should leap up and say, ‘I insist on becoming a Moye-type sword!’ the smith would regard it as most inauspicious metal indeed. Now having had the audacity to have once taken on human form, I should now say, ‘I won’t be anything but a man! Nothing but a man!’ the Creator would surely regard me as a most inauspicious person."

That’s a section I love from chapter 6.

This is the end of the inner chapters. Note that ‘Hundun’ means both chaos and wonton, so think something like a metaphorical primordial meatball.

The god of the Southern Sea was Swift; the god of the Northern Sea was Sudden. The god of the center was Hundun. Swift and Sudden would often meet in the land of Hundun, and Hundun would host them with great courtesy. Swift and Sudden made a plan to return Hundun’s generosity. “All men have seven orifices,” they said, “so that they can see and hear, eat and breathe. Hundun alone has none. Why don’t we bore these for him?”
Each day they bored one orifice and on the seventh day, Hundun died.

Gotta appreciate philosophy that knows how to stick the punchline.

That’s just the bit we think Zhuangzi definitely wrote, but the ‘outer’ and ‘miscellaneous’ chapters have some good stuff. The happiness of fish story from Autumn Floods really sticks with me. The whole chapter on Cutting Satchels is a vicious refutation of the state:

“In taking precautions against thieves who cut open satchels, search bags, and break open boxes, people are sure to cord and fasten them well, and to employ strong bonds and clasps; and in this they are ordinarily said to show their wisdom. When a great thief comes, however, he shoulders the box, lifts up the satchel, carries off the bag, and runs away with them, afraid only that the cords, bonds, and clasps may not be secure; and in this case what was called the wisdom (of the owners) proves to be nothing but a collecting of the things for the great thief.”

this chapter is especially interesting when you compare it in style and subject to Neither Lord Nor Subject.