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