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