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