It is because I had so much joy that I came to have so much hate.

I felt like a rich vagabond who had passed through the world paving my way with gold fairy dust, then realizing too late that the path disintegrated as soon as I passed over it.

I did not lose myself all at once.

I saw my mother in a different light. We all need to do that. You have to be displaced from what's comfortable and routine, and then you get to see things with fresh eyes, with new eyes.

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.

My mother didn't teach me lessons about being Chinese as strongly as she did the notion of who I was as a female.

With hope, a mind is always free.