Fire is hot; water, cold.
Worldly passions inseparable from satori.
Teaching beyond teaching; No leaning on words and letters.
Angry waves: not so dangerous as man's mind.
Sitting motionless, nothing happening — Spring coming, grass growing.
Ten thousand laws end in One : Don't stick to that, either!
A smiling face offers mercy; A troubled mind contains vicious poison.
Never comparable to anything: How can I preach it?
The man who's drunk water Knows if it's cool or warm.
No ugliness in a loved child.
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 all sentient beings with merciful eyes.
Meeting Sakyamuni, kill him! Meeting Bodhidharma, kill him, too!
He dies, I die - Where can we meet?
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.
With the slightest yes and no, Mind is lost in confusion.
When cold say cold; When hot say hot.
Cast away Dharma, Not to mention non-Dharma.
Much understand, much problem. Little understand, little problem. Complete DON'T KNOW, no problem.
However priceless, a piece of gold In the eye is nothing but grit.
No good thought, no evil thought.
Killing or vivifying is in these hands.
Day after day a very good day: Winds come and trees bow.
The Billion Worlds, a bubble on the sea; All Buddhas and Patriarchs, a flash of lightning.
Heaven, earth, and I: the same root. Everything and I: one thing.
Reach for it, and you'll miss; let it loose, and it'll follow.
Ordinary mind is the Way.
From outside the shoes, to scratch where you itch.
Rich food doesn't tempt the man who has eaten.
Watch your own steps!
Open your mouth— instantly wrong; Move your tongue— against the truth.
One snowflake falling on a burning furnace.
Spring comes: grass grows.
Seek satori within yourself! Where else?
One blind man leads many blind men Into the fire hole hand in hand.
What is the color of the wind? Where does the rain come from?
Everything is true just as it is: Why dislike it? Why hate?
Need fire? Best strike a flint. Water? Dig a well.
Not flattered by praise, not hurt by blame.
Once you preach, the point is gone.
Merciful words come out of the merciful mouth.
It rains: the earth wet.
Seeking words, chasing phrases: When do you have time for satori?
Spring opens a hundred flowers — for whom?
Pictured rice cakes dissolve hunger?
From the origins nothing exists.
Where no Buddha, the Buddha works.
To call heaven earth makes it earth? To name earth heaven makes it heaven?
Walking is Zen; sitting, too.