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