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