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