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