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