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