The man who's drunk water Knows if it's cool or warm.
Spring opens a hundred flowers — for whom?
Heaven, earth, and I: the same root. Everything and I: one thing.
Merciful words come out of the merciful mouth.
Go a thousand miles not moving a foot!
Spring comes: grass grows.
One snowflake falling on a burning furnace.
Worldly passions inseparable from satori.
Need fire? Best strike a flint. Water? Dig a well.
The Billion Worlds, a bubble on the sea; All Buddhas and Patriarchs, a flash of lightning.
No ugliness in a loved child.
One blind man leads many blind men Into the fire hole hand in hand.
A smiling face offers mercy; A troubled mind contains vicious poison.
Ten thousand laws end in One : Don't stick to that, either!
A hungry dog bites a dry bone.
From the origins nothing exists.
Watch all sentient beings with merciful eyes.
When cold say cold; When hot say hot.
Watch your own steps!
From outside the shoes, to scratch where you itch.
Produce Mind Without attachment to anything.
To call heaven earth makes it earth? To name earth heaven makes it heaven?
It rains: the earth wet.
Ordinary mind is the Way.
Once you preach, the point is gone.
Sitting motionless, nothing happening — Spring coming, grass growing.
Open your mouth— instantly wrong; Move your tongue— against the truth.
Fire is hot; water, cold.
No good thought, no evil thought.
Pictured rice cakes dissolve hunger?
Angry waves: not so dangerous as man's mind.
Coming back with satori but everything just as before: Hermit Mountain's drizzle and mist, Crooked River's waves . . .
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.
Everything is true just as it is: Why dislike it? Why hate?
Much understand, much problem. Little understand, little problem. Complete DON'T KNOW, no problem.
He dies, I die - Where can we meet?
Where no Buddha, the Buddha works.
Seeking words, chasing phrases: When do you have time for satori?
Never comparable to anything: How can I preach it?
Cast away Dharma, Not to mention non-Dharma.
Teaching beyond teaching; No leaning on words and letters.
Reach for it, and you'll miss; let it loose, and it'll follow.
With the slightest yes and no, Mind is lost in confusion.
Killing or vivifying is in these hands.
Walking is Zen; sitting, too.
Seek satori within yourself! Where else?
What is the color of the wind? Where does the rain come from?
Meeting Sakyamuni, kill him! Meeting Bodhidharma, kill him, too!
Not flattered by praise, not hurt by blame.
Day after day a very good day: Winds come and trees bow.
Every Saturday 05 pm.