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