Open your mouth— instantly wrong; Move your tongue— against the truth.
Go a thousand miles not moving a foot!
Walking is Zen; sitting, too.
Pictured rice cakes dissolve hunger?
It rains: the earth wet.
A hungry dog bites a dry bone.
What is the color of the wind? Where does the rain come from?
Ten thousand laws end in One : Don't stick to that, either!
No good thought, no evil thought.
The Billion Worlds, a bubble on the sea; All Buddhas and Patriarchs, a flash of lightning.
Watch your own steps!
Where no Buddha, the Buddha works.
Not flattered by praise, not hurt by blame.
Never comparable to anything: How can I preach it?
However priceless, a piece of gold In the eye is nothing but grit.
Merciful words come out of the merciful mouth.
A smiling face offers mercy; A troubled mind contains vicious poison.
Meeting Sakyamuni, kill him! Meeting Bodhidharma, kill him, too!
Cast away Dharma, Not to mention non-Dharma.
Fire is hot; water, cold.
No ugliness in a loved child.
One snowflake falling on a burning furnace.
Heaven, earth, and I: the same root. Everything and I: one thing.
One blind man leads many blind men Into the fire hole hand in hand.
When cold say cold; When hot say hot.
Watch all sentient beings with merciful eyes.
Everything is true just as it is: Why dislike it? Why hate?
Angry waves: not so dangerous as man's mind.
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.
Once you preach, the point is gone.
Much understand, much problem. Little understand, little problem. Complete DON'T KNOW, no problem.
He dies, I die - Where can we meet?
Produce Mind Without attachment to anything.
To call heaven earth makes it earth? To name earth heaven makes it heaven?
Worldly passions inseparable from satori.
Rich food doesn't tempt the man who has eaten.
Seeking words, chasing phrases: When do you have time for satori?
From the origins nothing exists.
Spring comes: grass grows.
Seek satori within yourself! Where else?
Reach for it, and you'll miss; let it loose, and it'll follow.
Coming back with satori but everything just as before: Hermit Mountain's drizzle and mist, Crooked River's waves . . .
Sitting motionless, nothing happening — Spring coming, grass growing.
Ordinary mind is the Way.
Need fire? Best strike a flint. Water? Dig a well.
From outside the shoes, to scratch where you itch.
Day after day a very good day: Winds come and trees bow.
Spring opens a hundred flowers — for whom?
Teaching beyond teaching; No leaning on words and letters.
With the slightest yes and no, Mind is lost in confusion.
Every Saturday 05 pm.