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