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