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