I Write A Thousand Words A Day.

We Hug, But There Are No Tears. For Every Awful Thing That's Been Said And Done, She Is My Sister. Parents Die, Daughters Grow Up And Marry Out, But Sisters Are For Life. She Is The Only Person Left In The World Who Shares My Memories Of Our Childhood, Our Parents, Our Shanghai, Our Struggles, Our Sorrows, And, Yes, Even Our Moments Of Happiness And Triumph. My Sister Is The One Person Who Truly Knows Me, As I Know Her. The Last Thing May Says To Me Is 'when Our Hair Is White, We'll Still Have Our Sister Love.

I Am Still Learning About Love. I Thought I Understood It--not Just Mother Love, But The Love For One's Parents, For One's Husband, And For One's Laotong. I've Experienced The Other Types Of Love--pity Love, Respectful Love And Gratitude Love. But Looking At Our Secret Fan With Its Messages Written Between Snow Flower And Me Over Many Years, I See That I Didn't Value The Most Important Love--deep-heart Love.

She Loves You. She's Just Forgotten How To Show It.

When People Are Alive They Love, When They Die, They Keep Loving. If Love Ends When Person Dies, That Is Not Real Love

Parents Die, Daughters Grow Up And Marry Out, But Sisters Are For Life.