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