I Always Wanted To Be A Writer.

When He Asked My Grandmother If She Would Mind Being Poor, She Said She Would Be Happy Just To Have Her Daughter And Himself: 'if You Have Love, Even Plain Water Is Sweet.

The Chinese Seemed To Be Mourning Mao In A Heartfelt Fashion. But I Wondered How Many Of Their Tears Were Genuine. People Had Practiced Acting To Such A Degree That They Confused It With Their True Feelings.

My Grandmother's Feet Had Been Bound When She Was Two Years Old. Her Mother...first Wound A Piece Of White Cloth About Twenty Feet Long Round Her Feet, Bending All The Toes Except The Big Toe Inward And Under The Sole. Then She Placed A Large Stone On Top To Crush The Arch.

For Anyone To Open Their Heart, They Need The Right Atmosphere, And Something To Prompt Them. For My Mother It Was Her Trip Abroad: She Was In A Very Relaxed, Understanding Environment. I Was Very Sympathetic Towards Her.

In Spring 1989...i Saw The Buildup Of Demonstrations From Chengdu To Tiananmen Square. It Struck Me That Fear Had Been Forgotten To Such An Extent That Few Of The Millions Of Demonstrators Perceived Danger. Most Seemed To Be Taken By Surprise When The Army Opened Fire.