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