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