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