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