Teaching beyond teaching; No leaning on words and letters.
Fire is hot; water, cold.
What is the color of the wind? Where does the rain come from?
Produce Mind Without attachment to anything.
Not flattered by praise, not hurt by blame.
A hungry dog bites a dry bone.
Sitting motionless, nothing happening — Spring coming, grass growing.
However priceless, a piece of gold In the eye is nothing but grit.
Worldly passions inseparable from satori.
When cold say cold; When hot say hot.
Pictured rice cakes dissolve hunger?
Merciful words come out of the merciful mouth.
Day after day a very good day: Winds come and trees bow.
Seeking words, chasing phrases: When do you have time for satori?
To call heaven earth makes it earth? To name earth heaven makes it heaven?
All things that exist are like a dream, a phantom, a bubble, a reflection; they are like dew or lightning; thus should you view them.
From outside the shoes, to scratch where you itch.
Everything is true just as it is: Why dislike it? Why hate?
No good thought, no evil thought.
A smiling face offers mercy; A troubled mind contains vicious poison.
No ugliness in a loved child.
Go a thousand miles not moving a foot!
Meeting Sakyamuni, kill him! Meeting Bodhidharma, kill him, too!
Cast away Dharma, Not to mention non-Dharma.
Spring comes: grass grows.
Ten thousand laws end in One : Don't stick to that, either!
The man who's drunk water Knows if it's cool or warm.
Walking is Zen; sitting, too.
Watch your own steps!
Heaven, earth, and I: the same root. Everything and I: one thing.
Ordinary mind is the Way.
Much understand, much problem. Little understand, little problem. Complete DON'T KNOW, no problem.
Once you preach, the point is gone.
Watch all sentient beings with merciful eyes.
The Billion Worlds, a bubble on the sea; All Buddhas and Patriarchs, a flash of lightning.
Killing or vivifying is in these hands.
From the origins nothing exists.
Spring opens a hundred flowers — for whom?
It rains: the earth wet.
Where no Buddha, the Buddha works.
Open your mouth— instantly wrong; Move your tongue— against the truth.
He dies, I die - Where can we meet?
Reach for it, and you'll miss; let it loose, and it'll follow.
Never comparable to anything: How can I preach it?
Seek satori within yourself! Where else?
One blind man leads many blind men Into the fire hole hand in hand.
Need fire? Best strike a flint. Water? Dig a well.
Coming back with satori but everything just as before: Hermit Mountain's drizzle and mist, Crooked River's waves . . .
With the slightest yes and no, Mind is lost in confusion.
Angry waves: not so dangerous as man's mind.
As soon possible!