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