Principles have a way of yielding to power.

A secret, like a chore, always seems to lead to another, one even more troublesome than the first.

The young see what they wish to see. The old see what they do not wish.

What harm is there in dreaming, if it eases pain? What good is reality, if it blots out hope? Can a man's mind be washed without bleaching his soul?

Like most Chinese, I am basically a fatalist - too sophisticated for religion and too superstitious to deny the gods.

you must not use wood to put out the fire.

In yielding we are like the water, by nature placid, conforming to the hollow of the smallest hand; in time, shaping even the mountains to its will. Thus we keep duty and honor. We cherish clan and civilization. We are Chinese.