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