Fa Mulan Quotes

I am Fa Mulan, a girl who would sacrifice her life for her family and for China. I am a girl who journeyed into the Underworld to save her friend from dying. I am a girl who has fought battle after battle to finally recognize herself in the mirror. And now I do.

only the brave may enter, but only the worthy may leave.

Her reflection's hair was short, but she wore a simple violet robe tied at the waist with a blue sash. At her hip was her father's sword, and tucked in her hair- a blossom from their family's cherry tree. Mulan knelt and lowered her fingers to the glass. It rippled at her touch. "This one. This is me." A beat. Are you sure? asked the girl in the mirror. "Yes," said Mulan firmly. "It doesn't matter whether I'm a girl dressed like a bride, or a girl dressed like a soldier. I know my heart." Mulan flattened her hand against the glass, facing her reflection. Together, they said, "I am Fa Mulan, a girl who would sacrifice her life for her family and for China. I am a girl who journeyed into the Underworld to save her friend from dying. I am a girl who has fought battle after battle to finally recognize herself in the mirror. And now I do.

This garden was peaceful and calm. Pink cherry blossoms and violet plum blossoms graced the sweeping trees. The petals fell like snowflakes, dancing and swirling until they touched the soft, verdant grass. There was something familiar about this place. Her eyes traveled down the flat stone steps. She knew this path, knew those stones. The third one from the bottom had a crack in the middle- from when she was five and the neighbor's boy convinced her there were worms on the other side of the stones. She'd hammered the stone in half, eager to catch a few worms to play with. There weren't any, of course, but her mother had helped her find some dragonflies by the pond instead, and they'd spent an afternoon counting them in the garden. Mulan smiled wistfully at the memory. This can't be the same garden. I'm in Diyu. Yet no painter could have re-created what she saw more convincingly. Every detail was as she remembered. At the bottom of the stone-cobbled path was a pond with rose-flushed lilies, and a marble bench under the cherry tree. She used to play by the pond when she was a little girl, catching frogs and fireflies in wine jugs and feeding the fish leftover rice husks and sesame seeds until her mother scolded her. And beyond the moon gate was- Mulan's hand jumped to her mouth. Home. That smell of home- of Baba's incense from the family temple, sharp with amber and cedar; of noodles in Grandmother Fa's special pork broth; of jasmine flowers that Mama used to scent her skin.

Then, remembering that strange sword just to her side, she leaned over the mountain edge to inspect it. The hilt was dull with age, but still gold, with short wings at the base of the blade that pointed forward. It had to be hundreds of years old. Mulan was about to leave it, but there was something inscribed on the blade itself. She could see only the first word. It was the same as in her name: Fa. Flower. Curious now, she reached down and tried to wrench the sword free. It was stuck tight. "Let me help." Shang knelt beside her and clasped the edge of the hilt. Together, they pulled. Out slid the sword. The weight of it nearly tipped Mulan over the mountain, but she caught herself in time and backed up away from the ledge. Catching her breath, she laid the sword on the grass, wiping it clean of dirt and grime. The characters on the blade glittered in the moonlight. "'The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all.

Her sword weighed heavily in her hand. She stared at the polished blade, wondering if its reflection would be the last sight she ever caught of herself. Would she die as Ping, the Fa son she'd made up so she could join the army in her father's place? If she died here, in the middle of this snow-covered mountain pass, she'd never see her father or her family again. Mulan swallowed hard. Who would believe that only a few months ago, her biggest concern had been impressing the Matchmaker? She could barely remember the girl she'd been back then. She'd worn layer upon layer of silk, not plates of armor, her waist cinched tightly with a satin sash instead of sore from carrying a belt of weapons. Her lips had been painted with rouge instead of chapped from cold and lack of water, her lashes highlighted with coal that she now could only dream of using to fuel a fire for warmth. How far she'd come from that girl to who she was now: a soldier in the Imperial army. Maybe serving her country as a warrior was truer to her heart than being a bride. Yet when she saw her reflection in her sword, she knew she was still pretending to be someone else.

She started to head out, but she passed her room. It was the same as she'd left it: a pile of cushions by her bed for Little Brother to sleep on, a stack of poetry and famous literature on her desk that she was supposed to study to become a "model bride," and the lavender shawl and silk robes she'd worn the day before she left home. The jade comb Mulan had left in exchange for the conscription notice caught her eye; it now rested in front of her mirror. Mulan's gaze lingered on the comb, on its green teeth and the pearl-colored flower nestled on its shoulder. She wanted to hold it, to put it in her hair and show her family- to show everyone- she was worthy. After all, her surname, Fa, meant flower. She needed to show them that she had bloomed to be worthy of her family name. But no one was here, and she didn't want to face her reflection. Who knew what it would show, especially in Diyu? She isn't a boy, her mother had told her father once. She shouldn't be riding horses and letting her hair loose. The neighbors will talk. She won't find a good husband- Let her, Fa Zhou had consoled his wife. When she leaves this household as a bride, she'll no longer be able to do these things. Mulan hadn't understood what he meant then. She hadn't understood the significance of what it meant for her to be the only girl in the village who skipped learning ribbon dances to ride Khan through the village rice fields, who chased after chickens and helped herd the cows instead of learning the zither or practicing her painting, who was allowed to have opinions- at all. She'd taken the freedom of her childhood for granted. When she turned fourteen, everything changed. I know this will be a hard change to make, Fa Li had told her, but it's for your own good. Men want a girl who is quiet and demure, polite and poised- not someone who speaks out of turn and runs wild about the garden. A girl who can't make a good match won't bring honor to the family. And worse yet, she'll have nothing: not respect, or money of her own, or a home. She'd touched Mulan's cheek with a resigned sigh. I don't want that fate for you, Mulan. Every morning for a year, her mother tied a rod of bamboo to Mulan's spine to remind her to stand straight, stuffed her mouth with persimmon seeds to remind her to speak softly, and helped Mulan practice wearing heeled shoes by tying ribbons to her feet and guiding her along the garden. Oh, how she'd wanted to please her mother, and especially her father. She hadn't wanted to let them down. But maybe she hadn't tried enough. For despite Fa Li's careful preparation, she had failed the Matchmaker's exam. The look of hopefulness on her father's face that day- the thought that she'd disappointed him still haunted her. Then fate had taken its turn, and Mulan had thrown everything away to become a soldier. To learn how to punch and kick and hold a sword and shield, to shoot arrows and run and yell. To save her country, and bring honor home to her family. How much she had wanted them to be proud of her.

Don’t you realize you’re a hero?” said Shang. “Your legend grows by the year. Fa Mulan, fearless warrior and savior of China. The one who buried Shan Yu’s armies under a mountaintop of ice.” “It was just a well-aimed rocket.” Mulan remembered the crack of ice, the avalanche cascading down. “The warrior who came to the emperor’s aid when Shan Yu took him hostage. Who fought and defeated Shan Yu in mortal combat atop a palace roof, saving the emperor and restoring China to its rightful ruler. All while wearing a dress.

You are the hero whose quick thinking saved our country. You are the warrior who risked great personal loss and dishonor to protect your family and, by extension, all of China.” It was absurd, the disconnect between the emperor’s words and Mulan’s own conception of herself. Yes, she supposed she had done these things, but she was also just Mulan, Fa Hsu’s daughter, who tripped over chickens and stole sweet buns from the kitchen.

It's hard to be interested in what men have to say when all you think we should do is bear sons." The advisors gasped collectively. But the Emperor smiled. "Then tell us, Fa Mulan. What should a woman do?" Mulan lifted her chin. "A woman is equal to a man," she said firmly. "She should have the chance to be educated as a man, and she should be able to speak her mind and be heard and listened to." One of the advisors snorted. "Next you'll be saying that women should be able to own land and take the civil exams!" The men laughed. "Well, why not?" Mulan challenged. "Or are you afraid that we'll surpass you all?" Their laughter died.

She isn’t a boy, her mother had told her father once. She shouldn’t be riding horses and letting her hair loose. The neighbours will talk. She won’t find a good husband— Let her, Fa Zhou had consoled his wife. When she leaves this household as a bride, she’ll no longer be able to do these things. Mulan hadn’t understood what he meant then. She hadn’t understood the significance of what it meant for her to be the only girl in the village who

As she drank, she closed her eyes and tried to imagine she was drinking her grandmother's porridge. What she wouldn't give for a hot bowl of fish congee, sprinkled with green scallions and topped with a dollop of sesame oil! She'd even have willingly downed one of her mother's herbal soups; Fa Li used to make red sage soup almost every day when Mulan was growing up. How she'd hated the smell and pungent taste. She used to pick out the chopped pieces of the root and chew on the sweet wolfberries instead. She missed home so much.

Soy Fa Mulán, una chica que sacrificaría su vida por su familia y por China. Soy una chica que viajó al inframundo para salvar a su amigo agonizante. Soy una chica que ha peleado batalla tras batalla para finalmente reconocerse en el espejo. Y ahora lo hago.