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