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