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Only two kind of daughters. Those who are obedient and those who follow their own mind! Only one kind of daughter can live in this house. Obedient daughter!

Even though I was young, I could see the pain of the flesh and the worth of the pain.

Which was what love was: unmotivated respect.

Nothing like other folks' sin for distraction.

I was no longer scared. I could see what was inside me.

My mother had a look on her face that I'll never forget. It was one of complete despair and horror, for losing Bing, for being so foolish as to think she could use faith to change fate.

Now that I'm angry at Harold, it's hard to remember what was so remarkable about him.

I discovered that maybe it was fate all along, that faith was just an illusion that somehow you're in control.

"You see what power is — holding someone else's fear in your hand and showing it to them! Besides, maybe it is true. Maybe Peanut and Little Yu's mother are now big Communists, who knows?"

I had new thoughts, willful thoughts, or rather thoughts filled with lots of won'ts. I won't let her change me, I promised myself. I won't be what I'm not.

I wanted my children to have the best combination: American circumstances and Chinese character. How could I know these things do not mix?

That was the night, in the kitchen, that I realized I was no better than who I was... And I no longer felt angry at Waverly. I felt tired and foolish, as if I had been running to escape someone chasing me, only to look behind and discover there was no one there.