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