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