“Like most Chinese, I am basically a fatalist – too sophisticated for religion and too superstitious to deny the gods.”

prophecies do not alter fate, only confirm it.

What harm is there in dreaming, if it eases pain? What good is reality, if it blots out hope? Can a man’s mind be washed without bleaching his soul?

to ask for anything of consequence from friends who cannot refuse is uncivilized.

Principles have a way of yielding to power.

The young see what they wish to see. The old see what they do not wish.

you must not use wood to put out the fire.

If mortals wait until the gods remake the world to their liking to be happy, they are already in hell.

I think I’m just a traveler. When you walk across a river and there’s no bridge, you build one. I’m used to having to deal with Chinese Communist ideology.

The relationship between the Chinese government and me is like a Cold War.

To call yourself a Chinese artist or woman artist or African artist reflects a certain kind of condition. To me, that is not necessary.

Everyone thinks the Chinese government selected me. Never ever. I was selected by Herzog and de Meuron.

I taught a lot of art history, especially Chinese, Japanese, and Indian. But the painting classes came back. The nudes came back. Not so much the still lifes.

I’m, I guess you could say, the Chinese-speaking, banjo-picking girl.

For most Americans, my Chinese music feels like a novelty and it’s not what it is for me.

I reside in a new colony for the Chinese-singing banjo player, with a population of one. At least I have something I have to do with my life.