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