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