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