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