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