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