Tao Te Ching — Chapter 79

When a great grievance is patched up, some resentment is sure to remain — how can this be called good? So the sage holds the left half of the tally, the creditor's portion, yet does not press his claim against others. The one who has Virtue oversees the tally; the one without Virtue oversees the collection of dues. The Way of Heaven plays no favorites — it is always on the side of the good.

James Legge (1891)

When a reconciliation is effected (between two parties) after a great animosity, there is sure to be a grudge remaining (in the mind of the one who was wrong). And how can this be beneficial (to the other)? Therefore (to guard against this), the sage keeps the left-hand portion of the record of the engagement, and does not insist on the (speedy) fulfilment of it by the other party. (So), he who has the attributes (of the Tao) regards (only) the conditions of the engagement, while he who has not those attributes regards only the conditions favourable to himself. In the Way of Heaven, there is no partiality of love; it is always on the side of the good man.

Dwight Goddard (1919)

When reconciling great hatred there will some remain. How can it be made good? Therefore the wise man accepts the debit side of the account and does not have to enforce payment from others. They who have virtue (teh) keep their obligations, they who have no virtue insist on their rights. Tao of heaven has no favorites but always helps the good man.

The chapter begins with a piece of hard-won psychological realism about conflict: he da yuan, bi you yu yuan — when you patch up a great grievance, some residue of resentment is bound to remain. Reconciliation imposed after a serious wound rarely erases the wound; a grudge lingers in the ledger of the heart. So mere settlement of disputes, especially settlement that insists on who was right and who must pay, an ke yi wei shan — how can that be called truly good? The deeper goodness lies elsewhere.

The image that follows draws on the ancient practice of contracts. A tally or contract (qi) was split in two; the creditor held the left half, the debtor the right, and they would later be matched to verify the debt. The sage, the chapter says, zhi zuo qi er bu ze yu ren — holds the creditor's half of the tally yet does not press the claim against the debtor. He has every right to demand repayment, and chooses not to enforce it. This is the practical form of generosity: keeping the record but releasing the demand. The contrast is stated plainly: you de si qi — the one with Virtue is in charge of the tally (holds the claim graciously); wu de si che — the one without Virtue is in charge of the collection (presses relentlessly for what is owed). The chapter ends with a serene theological note: tian dao wu qin, chang yu shan ren — the Way of Heaven has no favorites, no partiality, yet it is always with the good. Heaven does not play favorites, but the generous and the good align themselves with its grain and so are accompanied by it.

Holding the claim but releasing the demand is the very structure of forgiveness — the creditor who could rightfully collect and chooses instead to forgive the debt. It is the Lord's Prayer's "forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors," and the parable of the unforgiving servant, where the one who has been released from a great debt is condemned for pressing his small claim against another. The tally held but not enforced is grace in concrete form.

"Heaven plays no favorites, yet is always with the good" parallels the biblical "God shows no partiality" held together with the assurance that He is near to the righteous — and the broad spiritual conviction that the moral order is impartial in its working yet, precisely through that impartiality, accompanies those who align with goodness. The sun rises on all, but the generous live in its warmth.

Patching up a serious grievance rarely removes all resentment, especially when it insists on who must pay; true goodness lies deeper than settling scores. The generous person may hold a rightful claim yet declines to press it — keeping the record but releasing the demand. To insist relentlessly on what one is owed is the mark of lacking virtue; to forgive the debt one could collect is the mark of having it. The deeper order favors no one in particular, yet always accompanies the good.

This chapter is a meditation on forgiveness disguised as a lesson in accounting. Its realism is the starting point: forcing a resolution after a real injury usually leaves a residue of resentment, so winning the argument or extracting the apology rarely produces genuine peace. The image of the held-but-unenforced tally is one of the most precise pictures of grace in any wisdom literature — to retain a legitimate claim against someone and freely choose not to press it. In relationships, business, and conflict alike, the chapter draws a clean line: insisting relentlessly on every right one is owed marks a deficit of virtue, while the capacity to release a debt one could justly collect marks its presence. And it offers a quiet reassurance — that living generously aligns one with the grain of things, which, impartial as it is, accompanies the good.