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