With the slightest yes and no, Mind is lost in confusion.
Angry waves: not so dangerous as man's mind.
A hungry dog bites a dry bone.
Heaven, earth, and I: the same root. Everything and I: one thing.
From the origins nothing exists.
Cast away Dharma, Not to mention non-Dharma.
Seek satori within yourself! Where else?
It rains: the earth wet.
Reach for it, and you'll miss; let it loose, and it'll follow.
A smiling face offers mercy; A troubled mind contains vicious poison.
Ordinary mind is the Way.
Killing or vivifying is in these hands.
The man who's drunk water Knows if it's cool or warm.
Watch all sentient beings with merciful eyes.
Rich food doesn't tempt the man who has eaten.
He dies, I die - Where can we meet?
What is the color of the wind? Where does the rain come from?
Where no Buddha, the Buddha works.
To call heaven earth makes it earth? To name earth heaven makes it heaven?
Ten thousand laws end in One : Don't stick to that, either!
Open your mouth— instantly wrong; Move your tongue— against the truth.
Seeking words, chasing phrases: When do you have time for satori?
Everything is true just as it is: Why dislike it? Why hate?
Spring opens a hundred flowers — for whom?
Walking is Zen; sitting, too.
Pictured rice cakes dissolve hunger?
Teaching beyond teaching; No leaning on words and letters.
From outside the shoes, to scratch where you itch.
One blind man leads many blind men Into the fire hole hand in hand.
Day after day a very good day: Winds come and trees bow.
Go a thousand miles not moving a foot!
When cold say cold; When hot say hot.
Watch your own steps!
Much understand, much problem. Little understand, little problem. Complete DON'T KNOW, no problem.
Need fire? Best strike a flint. Water? Dig a well.
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.
No good thought, no evil thought.
The Billion Worlds, a bubble on the sea; All Buddhas and Patriarchs, a flash of lightning.
Merciful words come out of the merciful mouth.
Sitting motionless, nothing happening — Spring coming, grass growing.
Worldly passions inseparable from satori.
Produce Mind Without attachment to anything.
Spring comes: grass grows.
Not flattered by praise, not hurt by blame.
Meeting Sakyamuni, kill him! Meeting Bodhidharma, kill him, too!
Once you preach, the point is gone.
Fire is hot; water, cold.
No ugliness in a loved child.
Coming back with satori but everything just as before: Hermit Mountain's drizzle and mist, Crooked River's waves . . .
One snowflake falling on a burning furnace.