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