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