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