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