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