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