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