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