Ten thousand laws end in One : Don't stick to that, either!
One snowflake falling on a burning furnace.
Fire is hot; water, cold.
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?
No ugliness in a loved child.
Produce Mind Without attachment to anything.
He dies, I die - Where can we meet?
A smiling face offers mercy; A troubled mind contains vicious poison.
Spring comes: grass grows.
Cast away Dharma, Not to mention non-Dharma.
The Billion Worlds, a bubble on the sea; All Buddhas and Patriarchs, a flash of lightning.
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.
From the origins nothing exists.
Watch all sentient beings with merciful eyes.
However priceless, a piece of gold In the eye is nothing but grit.
Meeting Sakyamuni, kill him! Meeting Bodhidharma, kill him, too!
Pictured rice cakes dissolve hunger?
Merciful words come out of the merciful mouth.
Watch your own steps!
What is the color of the wind? Where does the rain come from?
Teaching beyond teaching; No leaning on words and letters.
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.
When cold say cold; When hot say hot.
No good thought, no evil thought.
The man who's drunk water Knows if it's cool or warm.
Rich food doesn't tempt the man who has eaten.
Need fire? Best strike a flint. Water? Dig a well.
Killing or vivifying is in these hands.
Reach for it, and you'll miss; let it loose, and it'll follow.
Not flattered by praise, not hurt by blame.
Sitting motionless, nothing happening — Spring coming, grass growing.
With the slightest yes and no, Mind is lost in confusion.
Once you preach, the point is gone.
Coming back with satori but everything just as before: Hermit Mountain's drizzle and mist, Crooked River's waves . . .
Day after day a very good day: Winds come and trees bow.
Ordinary mind is the Way.
Walking is Zen; sitting, too.
Spring opens a hundred flowers — for whom?
Angry waves: not so dangerous as man's mind.
From outside the shoes, to scratch where you itch.
Worldly passions inseparable from satori.
Everything is true just as it is: Why dislike it? Why hate?
It rains: the earth wet.
Open your mouth— instantly wrong; Move your tongue— against the truth.
Never comparable to anything: How can I preach it?
Go a thousand miles not moving a foot!
A hungry dog bites a dry bone.
Seek satori within yourself! Where else?
Every Thursday 06 pm.
Every Saturday 05 pm.