My mother imparted her daily truths so she could help my older brothers and me rise above our circumstances. We lived in San Francisco's Chinatown. Like most of the other Chinese children who played in the back alleys of restaurants and curio shops, I didn't think we were poor. My bowl was always full, three five-course meals every day, beginning with a soup full of mysterious things I didn't want to know the names of.

For woman is yin, the darkness within, where untempered passions lie. And man is yang, bright truth lighting our minds.

Over time, passion wanes, differences don't.

People there only dream that it is China, because if you are Chinese you can never let go of China in your mind.

Don't think too much. That makes you believe you have more choices than you do. Then you mind becomes confused.

I also thought of playing improvisational jazz and I did take lessons for a while. At first I tried to write fiction by making up things that were completely alien to my life.

Language is the tool of my trade -and I use them all - all the Englishes I grew up with