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