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