Where no Buddha, the Buddha works.
Reach for it, and you'll miss; let it loose, and it'll follow.
No ugliness in a loved child.
Rich food doesn't tempt the man who has eaten.
Everything is true just as it is: Why dislike it? Why hate?
With the slightest yes and no, Mind is lost in confusion.
Much understand, much problem. Little understand, little problem. Complete DON'T KNOW, no problem.
Fire is hot; water, cold.
Pictured rice cakes dissolve hunger?
Spring comes: grass grows.
A smiling face offers mercy; A troubled mind contains vicious poison.
Need fire? Best strike a flint. Water? Dig a well.
To call heaven earth makes it earth? To name earth heaven makes it heaven?
Day after day a very good day: Winds come and trees bow.
Merciful words come out of the merciful mouth.
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.
Heaven, earth, and I: the same root. Everything and I: one thing.
Teaching beyond teaching; No leaning on words and letters.
Go a thousand miles not moving a foot!
Coming back with satori but everything just as before: Hermit Mountain's drizzle and mist, Crooked River's waves . . .
Ten thousand laws end in One : Don't stick to that, either!
Spring opens a hundred flowers — for whom?
One snowflake falling on a burning furnace.
No good thought, no evil thought.
Not flattered by praise, not hurt by blame.
Watch all sentient beings with merciful eyes.
Once you preach, the point is gone.
Ordinary mind is the Way.
Angry waves: not so dangerous as man's mind.
Worldly passions inseparable from satori.
Sitting motionless, nothing happening — Spring coming, grass growing.
Open your mouth— instantly wrong; Move your tongue— against the truth.
The Billion Worlds, a bubble on the sea; All Buddhas and Patriarchs, a flash of lightning.
Produce Mind Without attachment to anything.
Seeking words, chasing phrases: When do you have time for satori?
Meeting Sakyamuni, kill him! Meeting Bodhidharma, kill him, too!
A hungry dog bites a dry bone.
It rains: the earth wet.
Killing or vivifying is in these hands.
From the origins nothing exists.
He dies, I die - Where can we meet?
From outside the shoes, to scratch where you itch.
What is the color of the wind? Where does the rain come from?
However priceless, a piece of gold In the eye is nothing but grit.
The man who's drunk water Knows if it's cool or warm.
Watch your own steps!
When cold say cold; When hot say hot.
Cast away Dharma, Not to mention non-Dharma.
Seek satori within yourself! Where else?
Walking is Zen; sitting, too.