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