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