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