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