With each passing day, I didn't lose hope. I fought to have more.

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 take a few quick sips. "This is really good." And I mean it. I have never tasted tea like this. It is smooth, pungent, and instantly addicting. "This is from Grand Auntie," my mother explains. "She told me 'If I buy the cheap tea, then I am saying that my whole life has not been worth something better.' A few years ago she bought it for herself. One hundred dollars a pound." "You're kidding." I take another sip. It tastes even better.

I wanted my children to have the best combination: American circumstances and Chinese character. How could I know these things do not mix?

It's both rebellion and conformity that attack you with success.

In [writing] fiction, every sentence is its own reward.

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