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