I did not lose myself all at once.

Writing what you wished was the most dangerous form of wishful thinking.

The life we receive is not always what we choose.

But later that day, the streets of Kweilin were strewn with newspapers reporting great Kuomintang victories, and on top of these papers, like fresh fish from a butcher, lay rows of people - men, women and children who had never lost hope, but had lost their lives instead.

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.

You can have pride in what you do each day, but not arrogance in what you were born with.

How do I create something out of nothing? And how do I create my own life? I think it is by questioning, and saying to myself that there are no absolute truths.