One blind man leads many blind men Into the fire hole hand in hand.

Spring comes: grass grows.

Rich food doesn't tempt the man who has eaten.

Go a thousand miles not moving a foot!

However priceless, a piece of gold In the eye is nothing but grit.

A hungry dog bites a dry bone.

Heaven, earth, and I: the same root. Everything and I: one thing.

Need fire? Best strike a flint. Water? Dig a well.

From outside the shoes, to scratch where you itch.

Much understand, much problem. Little understand, little problem. Complete DON'T KNOW, no problem.

Watch all sentient beings with merciful eyes.

Once you preach, the point is gone.

Fire is hot; water, cold.

Merciful words come out of the merciful mouth.

Cast away Dharma, Not to mention non-Dharma.

Produce Mind Without attachment to anything.

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.

Day after day a very good day: Winds come and trees bow.

Worldly passions inseparable from satori.

Ten thousand laws end in One : Don't stick to that, either!

Teaching beyond teaching; No leaning on words and letters.

From the origins nothing exists.

Where no Buddha, the Buddha works.

Ordinary mind is the Way.

Reach for it, and you'll miss; let it loose, and it'll follow.

Never comparable to anything: How can I preach it?

Sitting motionless, nothing happening — Spring coming, grass growing.

Not flattered by praise, not hurt by blame.

Open your mouth— instantly wrong; Move your tongue— against the truth.

Meeting Sakyamuni, kill him! Meeting Bodhidharma, kill him, too!

The man who's drunk water Knows if it's cool or warm.

Angry waves: not so dangerous as man's mind.

It rains: the earth wet.

When cold say cold; When hot say hot.

No ugliness in a loved child.

A smiling face offers mercy; A troubled mind contains vicious poison.

Seeking words, chasing phrases: When do you have time for satori?

To call heaven earth makes it earth? To name earth heaven makes it heaven?

Everything is true just as it is: Why dislike it? Why hate?

Seek satori within yourself! Where else?

Spring opens a hundred flowers — for whom?

Watch your own steps!

With the slightest yes and no, Mind is lost in confusion.

No good thought, no evil thought.

Walking is Zen; sitting, too.

Killing or vivifying is in these hands.

One snowflake falling on a burning furnace.

The Billion Worlds, a bubble on the sea; All Buddhas and Patriarchs, a flash of lightning.

Coming back with satori but everything just as before: Hermit Mountain's drizzle and mist, Crooked River's waves . . .

What is the color of the wind? Where does the rain come from?