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