You may be desperate, but never let anyone see you as anything less than a cultivated woman.
Lisa See
Read a thousand books, and your words will flow like a river.
reading writing storytelling writers words flow river read books storytellers novelists
women culture woman desperate
If it is perfectly acceptable for a widow to disfigure herself or commit suicide to save face for her husband's family, why should a mother not be moved to extreme action by the loss of a child or children? We are their caretakers. We love them. We nurse them when they are sick... But no woman should live longer than her children. It is against the law of nature. If she does, why wouldn't she wish to leap from a cliff, hang from a branch, or swallow lye?
women nature action death family live children loss mother woman law child suicide face sick save love extreme
Everyone knows that part of the spirit descends to the afterworld, while part of it remains with the family, but we have a special belief about the spirit of a young woman who has died before her marriage that goes contrary to this. She comes back to prey upon other unmarried girls--not to scare them but to take them to the afterworld with her so she might have company.
women marriage belief death family spirit woman company special young part
You make choices that are good and sound, but the gods have other plans for you.
choice fate free-will choices-and-consequences
The classics tell us that, in relationships, the one between teacher and student comes second only to the one between parent and child.
friendship
Snow Flower was my old same for life. I had a greater and deeper love for her than I could ever feel for a person who was my husband.
I am old enough to know only too well my good and bad qualities, which were often one in the same.
life
May and I are sisters. We'll always fight, but we'll always make up as well. That's what sisters do: we argue, we point out each other's frailties, mistakes, and bad judgment, we flash the insecurities we've had since childhood, and then we come back together. Until the next time.
sisters
He was in my hair, my eyes, my fingers, my heart. I day-dreamed about what he was doing, thinking, seeing, smelling, feeling. I could not eat for thoughts of him.
longing
I imagined my first night alone in bed with my stranger. I conjured our future years together unhampered by worries about money or officialdom. We would enjoy the day, the night, a smile, a word, a kiss, a glance. All lovely thoughts. All pointless dreams.
dreams
In that moment I understood that the cruelest words in the universe are if only.
regret regrets
Perhaps he was afraid as I was that we'd be caught. Or perhaps he was breathing me in just as I was letting him come into my lungs, my eyes, my heart.
lust
In our country we call this type of mother love teng ai. My son has told me that in men's writing it is composed of two characters. The first means pain; the second means love. That is a mother's love.
motherhood unconditional-love
I didn't know you would be here last night, but you were. We can't fight fate. Instead, we must accept that fate has given us a special opportunity.
love-at-first-sight
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