My mother said I was a clingy kid until I was about four. I also remember that from the age of eight she and I fought almost every day.

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.

I think we often write because we feel a loneliness, and people read for the same reason, and then they come away feeling a little less lonely.

I hated the tests the raised hopes and failed expectations.

I love my daughter. She and I have shared my body. There is a part of her mind that is a part of mine. But when she was born, she sprang from me like a slippery fish, and has been swimming away ever since.

We all had our miseries. But to despair was to wish back for something already lost. Or to prolong what was already unbearable. -Suyuan