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