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