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