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