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