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