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