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