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