I felt stuck in the bottom of a wishing well. I was desperate to shout what I wanted, but I didn’t know what that was. I knew only what it wasn’t. The Hundred Secret Senses by Amy Tan

And when I say that is certainly true, that our marriage is over. I know what else she will say: "Then you must save it." And even though I know it's hopeless- there's absolutely nothing left to save-I'm afraid if I tell her that, she'll still persuade me to try.

We are living in a world where everything is false. The society is like bright paint applied on top of rotten wood.

I feel I've always been writing about self-identity. How do we become who we are? So I'm just writing from experience what's concerned me.

He asked if he could recite a poem he had written that morning: 'You speak,' he said, 'the language of shooting stars, more surprising than sunrise, more brilliant than the sun, as brief as sunset. I want to follow its trail to eternity.

Now I was a tiger that neither pounced nor lay waiting between the trees. I became an unseen spirit.

I don't steer clear of genres. I simply haven't steered myself toward some of them.