Only you pick that crab. Nobody else take it. I already know this. Everyone else want best quality. You thinking different.

Writing is an extreme privilege but it's also a gift. It's a gift to yourself and it's a gift of giving a story to someone.

When you lose your face..., it is like dropping your necklace down a well. The only way you can get it back is to fall in after it.

I have a writer's memory, which makes everything worse than maybe it actually was.

Memory feeds imagination.

But now that I am old, moving every year closer to the end of my life, I also feel closer to the beginning. And I remember everything that happened that day becasue it has happened many times in my life. The same innocence, trust, and restlessness; the wonder, fear, and lonliness. How I lost myself. I remember all these things. And tonight, on the fifteenth day of the eighth moon, I also remember what I asked the Moon Lady so long ago. I wished to be found.

You can't have intentions without consequences. The question is, who pays for the consequences? Saving fish from drowning. Same thing. Who’s saved? Who’s not?