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