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