The lonely ones are making their moves with us, struggling with a fright that is so deep it has blinded their inner-sight. They know they will be shot if caught, so do we. They regard this moment as their last performance, so do we. The fright sweetens the mood. We are near to death as well as to heaven.

Your hands are too small to cover the sky.

I stood in the wind and tried to get through the moment.

We were meant to survive because of our minds’ ability to reason, our ability to live with frustration in order to maintain our virtue. We wore smiling masks while dying inside.

Tea, opera and poetry should not be missed – longevity depends on one’s mental cultivation.

Tea tasted the best at its second pouring. A.

When Chinese get together – what’s buried stays buried. We don’t even discuss our embarrassing early days struggling in Chicago.

Mother once told me that one had to lower one’s head when passing under low eaves in order to avoid injury.

The weak one waits for opportunity while the strong one creates.

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