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