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