I continue to devour this book. Amy Tan is a wonderful magic carpet writer than is a no-side-effect cure for everything from whining minions to grey ennui.
Part One
Chapter Four
A lot of her admonitions had to do with not showing what you really meant about all sorts of things: hope, disappointment, and especially love. The less you showed the more you meant.
Chapter Six
All it took was the right chemistry, which included love, and sometimes the wrong chemistry, which included booze and falling asleep.
As she now kept walking, she felt comforted by the water, its constancy, its predictability. Each time it withdrew, it carried with it whatever had marked the shore.
Chapter Seven
She had just finished reading The Diary of Anne Frank in sophomore English class, and like all the other girls, she was imbued with a sense that she too was different, an innocent on a path to tragedy that would make her posthumously admired. The diary would be proof of her existence, that she mattered, and more important, that someone somewhere would one day understand her, even if it was not in her lifetime. There was a tremendous comfort in believing that her miseries weren’t for naught.
That was how dishonesty and betrayal started, not in big lies but in small secrets.
gypsysunshine 
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