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