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