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