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