No matter how American I become, I'm considered part of the Chinese community by my own family.

Do you know who Karl Marx is? He is this strange little man, long dead, who lived his narrow little life, and somehow managed by the power of his wayward brain to lay hold upon millions of human lives!

my mother was taught the ch'an concept of happiness, which was to find satisfaction in small things. i was taught to appreciate the fresh air in the morning, the colour of leaves turning red in autumn and the water's smoothness when i soaked my hands in the basin.

The sun doesn't just hang on one family's tree

I was happy not to be in his place. He could command my death, but not his. But then, what kind of power was his? He was a prisoner of himself.

To be able to do art, it was a luxury to me.

If you can't go back to your mother's womb, you'd better learn to be a good fighter.