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