I felt foolish and tired, as if I had been running to escape someone chasing me, only to look behind to discover there was no one there.

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.

too much happiness always overflowed into tears of sorrow.

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.

If she doesn't speak, she is making a choice. If she doesn't try, she can lose her chance forever. -An-mei

Isn't hate merely the result of wounded love?

There's no hope. There's no reason to keep trying. Because you must. This is not hope. Not reason. This is your fate. This is your life, what you must do.