People who have the knowledge for one
job, the manners for one town, or the powers to impress one ruler to get put in charge of one country see themselves like this. Song Rongzi would laugh at them the same way. The whole world could praise him and he wouldn't be pleased or condemn him and he wouldn't be upset. He has
settled the difference between inner and outer and distinguished the limits of
glory and disgrace. Yet he stops there. With regard to the world, he didn't keep score, but there is
still something he left unplanted. 
rides the wind around. There's nothing like it! He’s gone two weeks at a time. He doesn't count his money but, though he avoids walking, he relies on something. If he could mount the world's regularities and ride the changing weather to travel forever,
then what would there be to rely on? 
So I say that perfect people have no selves, spiritual people have no
accomplishments, and wise people have no names. 
 Song Rongzi, with his open-mindedness to glory and disgrace, which he sets aside as external, seems to have adopted the big perspective. On the other hand, the fact that he is laughing suggests that his perspective is small. Is his laughter "similar" to that of the cicada, dove, and quail? Or to that of the narrator of the previous section who described them as "these vermin"? It is possible that the uncertainty of the "similarly" exploits the puzzle noted in the previous section of rejecting judgmental perspectives without being judgmental oneself. All this hinges on the question of what Song Rongzi "left unplanted."
 Liezi is described here in magical terms. Interestingly, Zhuangzi does not seem skeptical of magic but rather critical of the use of magic (or technology, or money) to "fix" the world rather than to embrace it as it is. Zhuangzi's language here is metaphoric. There is no consensus among commentators on precisely what these terms mean, but I think "the world's regularities" are the orderly passage of the days and seasons, and "the changes in the six mists" are the fluctuations in the weather. The point seems to be that, impressive as Liezi's accomplishments are, he still relies on something to escape the world, whereas if he accepted things as they are, the everyday, what need would there be to rely on anything? Could this have something to do with what Song Rongzi left unplanted?
 Context suggests to me that these are supposed to be paradoxes. 名 míng, "name," also means fame or reputation, so "wise people having no names" would sound like "true celebrities are unknown." Spirituality was often understood as the power of action at a distance, like the power of the sun to make things grow, so saying that spiritual people accomplish nothing would also be an oxymoron. That leaves "perfect people have no selves," which is a mystery to me. Assuming that 1:01, 1:02, and 1:03 go together, it is interesting to ask how we get from Roe and Breeze to this final set of paradoxes. Is there a direct line between them or has the conversation just wandered?