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