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