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