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