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