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