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