Worldly passions inseparable from satori.
The man who's drunk water Knows if it's cool or warm.
Where no Buddha, the Buddha works.
Coming back with satori but everything just as before: Hermit Mountain's drizzle and mist, Crooked River's waves . . .
No good thought, no evil thought.
When cold say cold; When hot say hot.
Spring comes: grass grows.
Watch your own steps!
It rains: the earth wet.
Rich food doesn't tempt the man who has eaten.
Ten thousand laws end in One : Don't stick to that, either!
Never comparable to anything: How can I preach it?
Watch all sentient beings with merciful eyes.
Angry waves: not so dangerous as man's mind.
Much understand, much problem. Little understand, little problem. Complete DON'T KNOW, no problem.
Once you preach, the point is gone.
Not flattered by praise, not hurt by blame.
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.
The Billion Worlds, a bubble on the sea; All Buddhas and Patriarchs, a flash of lightning.
A smiling face offers mercy; A troubled mind contains vicious poison.
Walking is Zen; sitting, too.
Ordinary mind is the Way.
A hungry dog bites a dry bone.
Fire is hot; water, cold.
No ugliness in a loved child.
Seek satori within yourself! Where else?
With the slightest yes and no, Mind is lost in confusion.
Reach for it, and you'll miss; let it loose, and it'll follow.
Heaven, earth, and I: the same root. Everything and I: one thing.
Go a thousand miles not moving a foot!
One blind man leads many blind men Into the fire hole hand in hand.
From outside the shoes, to scratch where you itch.
However priceless, a piece of gold In the eye is nothing but grit.
Open your mouth— instantly wrong; Move your tongue— against the truth.
Sitting motionless, nothing happening — Spring coming, grass growing.
Cast away Dharma, Not to mention non-Dharma.
Need fire? Best strike a flint. Water? Dig a well.
To call heaven earth makes it earth? To name earth heaven makes it heaven?
From the origins nothing exists.
Day after day a very good day: Winds come and trees bow.
Everything is true just as it is: Why dislike it? Why hate?
Meeting Sakyamuni, kill him! Meeting Bodhidharma, kill him, too!
One snowflake falling on a burning furnace.
What is the color of the wind? Where does the rain come from?
Spring opens a hundred flowers — for whom?
Seeking words, chasing phrases: When do you have time for satori?
Pictured rice cakes dissolve hunger?
Merciful words come out of the merciful mouth.
Killing or vivifying is in these hands.
Teaching beyond teaching; No leaning on words and letters.