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