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