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