大明高僧傳 6.20

6.20

The appraisal says: Observing Master Hui, his livelihood was both menial and clumsy, yet his aspiration to study the Buddha was both sharp and diligent. In the beginning, when deluded, his pupils were as if blind; later, when awakened, his entire body was an eye. As for uttering gāthās and discussing Chan, he greatly possessed the style of transcending the present and surpassing antiquity; could it not be [the Master of] Neng rising again? If he had been made to read five cartloads of books at home and thoroughly investigate the Tripiṭaka abroad, how could there have been the phenomenon of sparks bursting forth from a single hammer strike? Generally, the more the world is governed, the more chaos arises; the more learning is vast, the more attachments become entrenched. The ancients denounced it as 'mixed poison entering the mind,' truly with good reason. Alas! The men of splendid minds and embroidered mouths, the monks like literary dragons and doctrinal tigers in the world: if they could be open-minded like Changli and reflect upon themselves like Zhou Diamond, why worry that oil would not come out of the flour, or that the Way would not draw near to oneself? Therefore, those that chase the wind and pursue the sun are not the legs of worn-out nags; how could those who scold the Buddhas and curse the patriarchs be crude and lowly fellows? Those stuck in views and knowledge, or constrained by their inferential cognition, are not even as good as an unpolished rough jade that is easy to carve.