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