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