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