Ying-ying, you have tiger eyes. They gather fire in the day. At night they shine golden.

Isn't hate merely the result of wounded love?

My mother had a look on her face that I'll never forget. It was one of complete despair and horror, for losing Bing, for being so foolish as to think she could use faith to change fate.

My sister Kwan believes she has yin eyes. She sees those who have died and now dwell in the world of Yin, ghosts who leave the mists just to visit her kitchen on Balboa Street in San Francisco.

Why do you think you are missing something you never had?

I'd like to be more forgiving. There are times when I've had a hard time forgiving people who have betrayed me.

A psychiatrist does not want you to wake up. He tells you to dream some more, to find the pond and pour more tears into it. And really, he's just another bird drinking from your misery.