虛堂和尚語錄 4.11

4.11

When the outstanding individuals of antiquity traveled a thousand li, they did not seek rare treasures but begged for a single word. Since the master could not restrain himself, he inevitably set forth directly the essential path of entering the Way. If there was blood beneath the skin and one knew where to return beyond words, it was not in vain. In recent years this trend has flourished greatly: no sooner does one enter the assembly than he first seeks Dharma words with a scroll as thick as an ox's waist, making it an ornament for the gate of investigation and study; what is urgent and critical is tossed into the armor of indolence. Meanwhile, the old bald soldiers of the great quarters unleash their flowing eloquence, carving and chiseling literary adornments, and string them along, causing newly learned bhikṣus to swallow this fox-saliva, unable to free themselves their whole lives—truly lamentable! When Luzu met a monk, he sat facing the wall; when Magu saw a monk, he immediately shut the door. Like a flash of lightning or a spark of flint, whether grasped or not, both fall into the secondary. How would they be willing to follow my kind and fall into language? Therefore, for high mountains and flowing waters, only an attuned listener is valued; at the gates of the music of Zheng and Wei, one must quickly cover one's ears."