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