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