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