Shanghai Love Quotes

We've searched our database for all the quotes and captions related to Shanghai Love. Here they are! All 54 of them:

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.
Lisa See (Shanghai Girls (Shanghai Girls, #1))
We hug, but there are no tears. For every awful thing that's been said and done, she is my sister. Parents die, daughters grow up and marry out, but sisters are for life. She is the only person left in the world who shares my memories of our childhood, our parents, our Shanghai, our struggles, our sorrows, and, yes, even our moments of happiness and triumph. My sister is the one person who truly knows me, as I know her. The last thing May says to me is 'When our hair is white, we'll still have our sister love.
Lisa See (Shanghai Girls (Shanghai Girls, #1))
As she spoke, I wanted to cry, because sometimes it's just so damn hard to be a mother. We have to wait and wait and wait for our children to open their hearts to us. And if that doesn't work, we have to bide our time and look for the moment of weakness when we can sneak back into their lives and they will see us and remember us for the people who love them unconditionally.
Lisa See (Dreams of Joy (Shanghai Girls, #2))
Her life was like a burst of wild, flowing Chinese calligraphy, written under the influence of alcohol.
Wei Hui (Shanghai Baby)
There will be hatred. There will be war. The country will fight itself to pieces. It will starve its people, ravage its land, poison its breath. Shanghai will fall and break and cry. But alongside everything, there has to be love - eternal, undying, enduring. Burn through vengeance and terror and warfare. Burn through everything that fuels the human heart and Sears it red, burn through everything that covers the outside with hard muscle and tough sinew. Cut down deep and grab what beats beneath, and it is love that will survive after everything else has perished.
Chloe Gong (Our Violent Ends (These Violent Delights, #2))
Kissing with the tip of the tongue is like ice-cream melting. It was he who taught me that a kiss has a soul and colour of its own.
Wei Hui (Shanghai Baby)
If this constant bitter disappointment was love, then I was perfectly fine not to have anything to do with it.
Vann Chow (Shanghai Nobody (Master Shanghai, #1))
Love was a miracle the flesh couldn’t copy.
Wei Hui (Shanghai Baby)
She doesn't need your money. Even a penniless fool like you can make her fall in love with you. That's just miracle.
Vann Chow (Shanghai Nobody (Master Shanghai, #1))
An inch of gold can't buy an inch of time
Nicole Mones (Night in Shanghai)
Miracles are everywhere, and as I watch my sister--forever, beautiful, forever my little sister--staring into the eyes of the one man she ever loved, I know that indeed things do return to the beginning. The world opens again, and I see a life of happiness without fear. I gaze at my family--complicated though it may be--and know that fate smiles on us.
Lisa See (Dreams of Joy (Shanghai Girls, #2))
It is tiring to be a woman who loves to eat in a society where hunger is something not to be satisfied but controlled. Where a long history of female hunger is associated with shame and madness. The body must be punished for every misstep; for every "indulgence" the balance of control must be restored. To enjoy food as a young woman, to opt out every day from the guilt expected of me, is a radical act, of love.
Nina Mingya Powles (Tiny Moons: A Year of Eating in Shanghai)
Fear of loneliness is what teaches us to love,
Wei Hui (Shanghai Baby)
Understand that I am even ignored by the opposite sex on the internet.
Vann Chow (Shanghai Nobody (Master Shanghai, #1))
love that couldn’t accept a lover’s flaws was a selfish love. He wouldn’t be selfish. He would love her, all of her, her beauty, her smiles, her secrets, her mistakes, and her faults.
Weina Dai Randel (The Last Rose of Shanghai)
because sometimes it’s just so damn hard to be a mother. We have to wait and wait and wait for our children to open their hearts to us. And if that doesn’t work, we have to bide our time and look for the moment of weakness when we can sneak back into their lives and they will see us and remember us for the people who love them unconditionally.
Lisa See (Dreams of Joy (Shanghai Girls, #2))
Juliette would have accepted the burden of playing dead if it meant safety for those she loved most. She and Roma were the same that way. It was their greatest flaw and their greatest strength at once, and she doubted that would ever change.
Chloe Gong (Last Violent Call (Secret Shanghai, #3.5))
I love China! I love my country even though it is not always good ro right,' my daughter proclaimed in a firm voice. Her words brought tears to my eyes. I also had a deep and abiding love for the land of my ancestors even though, because of my class status, I had become an outcast.
Nien Cheng (Life and Death in Shanghai)
My dearest Friend, As I am urging our students to write a note to their mothers away from Shanghai, I think of you as a mother to so many of our Chinese girls. The greatness and depth of your love only God knows how to measure and reward you. Thinking of you has always been an inspiration to me. I love you. Lovingly yours, Tszo-Sing Chen
Katherine Paterson (Stories of My Life)
There is a kind of love that strikes like a thunderbolt; it blinds you, yet opens your eyes to see the world anew.
Weina Dai Randel (The Last Rose of Shanghai)
A love that couldn’t accept a lover’s flaws was a selfish love.
Weina Dai Randel (The Last Rose of Shanghai)
On the surface we're two utterly different types. I'm full of energy and ambition, and see the world as a scented fruit just waiting to be eaten. He is introspective, romantic and for him life is a cake laced with arsenic, every bite poisons him a little more. But our differences only increased our mutual attraction, like the inseparable north and south magnetic poles. We rapidly fell in love.
Wei Hui (Shanghai Baby)
Fear of Flying (Because every time you fly, you land somewhere new and you have to make new friends.) Leave something you love in every city you've lived in. A record player in Shanghai, a kitten in Seattle, your best dresses hanging in a closet in Paris. That way you'll always have a reason to retrace your steps back to old friends. So it means you won't have to stay away forever. Learn to enjoy being alone, appreciate the silence of dinners where an entire roast duck can be gnawed away, cartilage and all, without conversational interruption. You are free and oh-so-mysterious. Think: Friends, who needs friends?
Xuan Juliana Wang (Home Remedies)
I love America for its bourgeois comfort. If I was as heavily in debt as they are, I wouldn't be drinking tea or coffee anywhere. I would be sipping tap water from an old bottle and serving others tea or coffee in a cafe somewhere.
Vann Chow (Shanghai Nobody (Master Shanghai, #1))
In my novel, a couple hold each other close as a raging fire spreads through their room. They know they can’t leave. Fire has sealed off all windows and corridors, leaving them only one thing to do: make love madly in the heart of the blaze.
Wei Hui (Shanghai Baby)
In an aggressive culture, non-HSPs are favored, and that fact will be obvious everywhere. Even in the study of pumpkinseed sunfish described above, the U.S. biologists writing the article described the sunfish that went into the traps as the “bold” fish, who behaved “normally.” The others were “shy.” But were the untrapped fish really feeling shy? Why not smug? After all, one could as easily describe them as the smart sunfish, the others as the stupid ones. No one knows what the sunfish felt, but the biologists were certain because their culture had taught them to be. Those who hesitate are afraid; those who do not are normal. (Science is always filtered through culture—the true image is not lost but sure can be tinted.) Here’s a good study to remember: Research comparing elementary school children in Shanghai to those in Canada found that sensitive, quiet children in China were among the most respected by their peers, and in Canada they were among the least respected. HSPs growing up in cultures in which they are not respected have to be affected by this lack of respect.
Elaine N. Aron (The Highly Sensitive Person in Love: Understanding and Managing Relationships When the World Overwhelms You)
Lore is my favorite kind of story. Because it's not only historical, it's a lie everyone knows is a lie but tells anyway. I love that. Of course every story I tell is true. Completely true. Completely and utterly at least five-eighths of the way to being true, which is truer than any piece of lore and truer than most truths you'll hear.
Kevin Sampsell editor "Shanghaied" by Gigi Little (Portland Noir)
Special combo, you got it," I say into the phone. "Which one?" "The winter melon soup." Winter melon is symbolic of a wife- a special order of the soup means someone's is about to be abducted. A special order of egg fried rice? Someone's kid. Fried pot stickers? A husband. Shanghai chow mein with chopped-up noodles? Someone's doomed to have their life cut short, the promise of longevity broken.
Elsie Chapman (Hungry Hearts: 13 Tales of Food & Love)
And yet, I have half a pot of dark brown honey remaining in my bag; a half a pot of honey that is worth more than nations. (I was tempted to write, worth more than all the tea in China, perhaps because of my current situation, but fear that even Watson would deride it as cliché.) And speaking of Watson... There is one thing left to do. My only remaining goal, and it is small enough. I shall make my way to Shanghai, and from there I shall take ship to Southamptom, a half a world away. And once I am there, I shall seek out Watson, if he still live - and fancy he does. It is irrational, I acknowledge, and yet I am certain that I would know, somehow, had Watson passed beyond the veil. I shall by theatrical makeup, disguise myself as an old man, so as not to startle him, and I shall invite my old friend over for tea. There will be honey on buttered toast served with the tea that afternoon, I fancy. (from 'The Case of Death and Honey')
Neil Gaiman (Trigger Warning: Short Fictions and Disturbances)
It was surreal, looking at the photographs and realizing how many people had walked these halls before them. Members of the first class would be in their fifties by now. Yet there they were in their photo, immortalized behind glass, forever nineteen and twenty and twenty-one. Farrah detected a shadow of her friends in all of them—a hint of Sammy’s good-natured grin, a trace of Kris’s regal haughtiness, a mischievous twinkle in the eye that would make Courtney proud. The superficial resemblances were there, but she wondered if they laughed as hard and loved as deep, if they had their hearts broken and if they found family here, or if they were just ships passing in the night. Did they keep in touch decades later? Did Shanghai change them, or was it a mere footnote in the stories of their lives? Inexplicably, her heart ached for these strangers. She would never know their stories and secrets, but she knew them. She was, after all, walking in their footsteps.
Ana Huang (If We Ever Meet Again (If Love, #1))
Time brushed up against her cheek and asked her to take a breath, but she only held still, reveling in the swirl of emotion shaking through her ribs. Her heart turned itself inside out, read aloud the writing in red on her arteries and valves, told her pointedly that love was never wholly the grand battles and explosive deeds. Love, she thought, was kernel of warmth nestled deeper in her chest, glowing with a sense of comfort whenever Roma's eyes was on her - the same comfort she'd first found when they were fifteen, everlasting.
Chloe Gong (Last Violent Call (Secret Shanghai, #3.5))
Next week is Beltane,” she reminded him. “Do you suppose we will make it through the wedding this time?” “Not if Gideon says you cannot get out of this bed,” he countered sternly. “Absolutely not!” she burst out, making him wince and cover the ear she’d been too close to. She immediately regretted her thoughtlessness, making a sad sound before reaching to kiss the ear she had offended with quiet gentleness. Jacob extricated himself from her hold enough to allow himself to turn and face her. “Okay, explain what you meant,” he said gently. “I refuse to wait another six months. We are getting married on Beltane, come hell or . . . necromancers . . . or . . . the creature from the Black Lagoon. There is no way Corrine is going to be allowed to get married without me getting married, too. I refuse to listen to her calling me the family hussy for the rest of the year.” “What does it matter what she says?” Jacob sighed as he reached to touch the soft contours of her face. “You and I are bonded in a way that transcends marriage already. Is that not what is important?” “No. What’s important is the fact that I am going to murder the sister I love if she doesn’t quit. And she will not quit until I shut her up either with a marriage or a murder weapon. Understand?” Clearly, by his expression, Jacob did not understand. “Thank Destiny all I have is a brother,” he said dryly. “I have been inundated with people tied into knots over one sister or another for the past weeks.” “You mean Legna. Listen, it’s not her fault if everyone has their shorts in a twist because of who her Imprinted mate is! Frankly, I think she and Gideon make a fabulous couple. Granted, a little too gorgeously ‘King and Queen of the Prom’ perfect for human eyes to bear looking at for long, but fabulous just the same.” Jacob blinked in confusion as he tried to decipher his fiancée’s statement. Even after all these months, she still came out with unique phraseologies that totally escaped his more classic comprehension of the English language. But he had gotten used to just shrugging his confusion off, blaming it on the fact that English wasn’t his first, second, or third language, so it was to be expected. “Anyway,” she went on, “Noah and Hannah need to chill. You saw Legna when she came to visit yesterday. If a woman could glow, she was as good as radioactive.” She smiled sweetly at him. “That means,” she explained, “that she looks as brilliantly happy as you make me feel.” “I see,” he chuckled. “Thank you for the translation.” He reached his arms around her, drawing her body up to his as close as he could considering the small matter of a fetal obstacle. He kissed her inviting mouth until she was breathless and glowing herself. “I thought I would be kind to you,” she explained with a laugh against his mouth. “You, my love, are all heart.” “And you are all pervert. Jacob!” She laughed as she swatted one of his hands away from intimate places, only to be shanghaied by another. “What would Gideon say?” “He better not say anything, because if he did that would mean he was in here while you are naked. And that, little flower, would probably cost him his vocal chords in any event.” “Oh. Well . . . when you put it that way . . .
Jacquelyn Frank (Gideon (Nightwalkers, #2))
China, talking about restrooms is very important, especially when seconds count. Memorize these characters: (Nán) is male, (Nǚ) is female. Often they may be more prominently displayed than the words “Men” or “Women” or even the familiar gender-specific silhouettes we are accustomed to seeing. Not to worry, however, if you can’t read the Chinese characters for the two gender choices. The general rule of thumb in almost all of China is “men left, women right,” meaning that the men’s restroom will be on the left-hand side and women’s on the right. Only in the areas populated primarily by minority peoples is the opposite true. If you’re female, and at least half the human race is of that persuasion, then you have a special treat in store at some Chinese airport restrooms outside of the largest cities like Beijing and Shanghai. You may walk into one of the lovely modern stalls provided for you. Lulled into a sense of security and familiarity by such a modern-looking restroom so far from home, you don’t even think to check to see if there is any toilet paper in the stall. That’s because in America there are always several giant-sized rolls in industrial-looking acrylic dispensers.
Larry Herzberg (China Survival Guide: How to Avoid Travel Troubles and Mortifying Mishaps)
She wasn’t gung ho, but she was Gung’s ho. There’s no love lost between them, because I found it all and sold it in Shanghai.
Jarod Kintz (This Book is Not for Sale)
heiserer
Karin Lindberg (Act of Law - Liebe verpflichtet (Shanghai Love Affairs, #3))
homosexuality a curable perversion. She professed to disdain men and insisted women had been “enslaved by the institution of marriage.” Yet she loved many men and married twice: she treated her first husband abominably, and was physically and emotionally abused by her second. She considered sex degrading, but was an enthusiastic advocate, and energetic exponent, of free love. “Out here I’ve had chances to sleep with all colours and shapes,” she wrote to a friend, shortly before meeting Ursula. “One French gunrunner, short and round and bumpy; one fifty-year-old monarchist German who believes in the dominating role of the penis in influencing women; one high Chinese official whose actions I’m ashamed to describe, one round left-wing Kuomintang man who was soft and slobbery.” She was a communist who never joined the party; a violent revolutionary and romantic dreamer; a feminist in thrall to a succession of men; a woman who inspired intense loyalty, yet inflicted enormous damage on many of her friends; she supported communism without considering what communist rule involved in reality. She was passionate, prejudiced, charismatic, narcissistic, reckless, volatile, lovable, hypercritical, emotionally fragile, and uncompromising. “I may not be innocent, but I’m right,” she declared. Ursula was entranced. Agnes Smedley seemed to embody political passion and energy, the very antithesis of the smug complacency she found in the bourgeois boudoirs of Shanghai. “Your very existence is not worth anything at all if you live passively in the midst of injustice,” Smedley insisted. Agnes was everything Ursula admired: feminist, anti-fascist, an enemy of imperialism and defender of the oppressed against the forces of capitalism, and a natural revolutionary. She was also a spy.
Ben Macintyre (Agent Sonya: Moscow's Most Daring Wartime Spy)
The autonomous municipalities established by the Zapatistas represent in many respects only the latest chapter in a long history of revolutionary dual power. In this respect they offer a contemporary example from which certain general lessons can be extracted, much as lessons might be taken from the experiences of the workers councils that sprung up across Europe in the wake of the First World War, or during the Spanish Revolution, or the Shanghai Commune during the Chinese Cultural Revolution.
Roy San Filippo (A New World In Our Hearts: 8 Years of Writings from the Love and Rage Revolutionary Anarchist Federation)
I never left, Juliette wanted to say, but that wasn’t true. Her mind had remained here—her thoughts had constantly revolved around the chaos and the injustice and the burning fury that broiled in these streets—but her physical body had been shipped across the ocean a second time for safekeeping. She had hated it, hated being away so intensely that she felt the force of it burn into a fever each night when she left the parties and speakeasies. The weight of Shanghai was a steel crown nailed to her head. In another world, if she had been given a choice, perhaps she would have walked away, rejected herself as the heir to an empire of mobsters and merchants. But she never had a choice. This was her life, this was her city, these were her people, and because she loved them, she had sworn to herself a long time ago that she would do a damn good job of being who she was because she could be no one else
Chloe Gong (These Violent Delights (These Violent Delights, #1))
I close my eyes. I hear the voices of the past in the wind and in the beating of my heart. My two mothers, my two fathers, and my dear uncle all tried to tell me I was wrong about the People's Republic of China. In the beginning, going all the way back to the University of Chicago, I thought socialism and communism were good, that people should share equally, that it wasn't fair that my family had suffered in America when others drove fancy cars, lived in big houses, and shopped in Beverly Hills. I ran away and came here in hopes of finding an ideal world, to find my birth father, to avoid my mother and aunt, and to crush my guilt. None of that worked the way I expected. The ideal world was filled with hypocrisy and with people like Z.G., who went to parties while the masses suffered. In finding my birth father, I only remembered how wonderful my father Sam was. He loved me unconditionally, while Z.G. wanted me as a muse, as a pretty daughter to show off, as a physical manifestation of his love for Auntie May, as an artist who would reflect how great an artist he is. I thought I could use idealism to solve my inner conflicts, but in healing my inner conflicts I destroyed my idealism. As I gaze into my daughter's face, everything becomes very clear. My mother and aunt loved me, stood by me, and supported me, no matter what. They were both good mothers. My greatest misery and grief is that I have not been a good mother and I can't save my daughter. I pray that in our final days and hours Samantha will know how much I love her.
Lisa See (Dreams of Joy (Shanghai Girls, #2))
There is a kind of love that strikes like a thunderbolt; it blinds you, yet opens your eyes to see the world anew. Within its light, a pathway was illuminated.
Weina Dai Randel (The Last Rose of Shanghai)
love is stronger than death?
Weina Dai Randel (The Last Rose of Shanghai)
Love is stronger than death.
Weina Dai Randel (The Last Rose of Shanghai)
A love that couldn’t accept a lover’s flaws was a selfish love. He wouldn’t be selfish. He would love her, all of her, her beauty, her smiles, her secrets, her mistakes, and her faults.
Weina Dai Randel (The Last Rose of Shanghai)
He loved to see her like this, and he held her gaze, his heart humming. A space filled with infinite happiness seemed to grow between them, transforming into a bridge of delicate, unsung notes.
Weina Dai Randel (The Last Rose of Shanghai)
He was in love with her, and he could hardly control himself. He longed to be a drink in her hand, to enter her, to be inseparable from her.
Weina Dai Randel (The Last Rose of Shanghai)
It is tiring to be a woman who loves to eat in a society where hunger is something not to be satisfied but controlled. Where a long history of female hunger is associated with shame and madness. The body must be punished for every misstep; for every “indulgence” the balance of control must be restored. To enjoy food as a young woman, to opt out every day from the guilt expected of me, is a radical act, of love. My body often feels like it’s neither here nor there. Too much like this, not enough like that. But however it looks, my body allows me to feel hunger.
Nina Mingya Powles (Tiny Moons: A Year of Eating in Shanghai)
Love is stronger than death
Weina Dai Randel (The Last Rose of Shanghai)
I dream of a world where no law or human divide would stop two people from falling in love.
Alexa Kang (Shanghai Story (Shanghai Story, #1))
It was the worst picture she had seen in her life. It was worse than the crying baby in Shanghai. ‘Sometimes we need to see why we fight,’ said the burglar vicar gently. ’We need to see what God sees. Then we can understand just a little better His wrath, and His justice, and His love.’ He slipped the photograph from her hand, put it in the folder, slipped the folder from her. She pulled the pillow over her face and wept. She’d not forget that image, not for the rest of her life. She cried herself deaf for the child and for Arthur Vance; for Murray whose Rocket Kid could not save this child, and for William, because she finally understood what it felt like to be eviscerated. She wept that she could not go and die for this boy. ‘I’m utterly useless!’ she screamed into the pillow, and finally came to her defeated senses. A good cry, and she did not feel better. ‘You are hardly useless,’ said the Burglar Vicar. ‘Oh really? I can’t even sit up.’ ‘You can pray.’ ‘How do you know it does any good?’ ‘It’s better than moping, which does no good at all.” She supposed it would be better to pray than to mope. The Shrew said prayer held them to their tasks. She said she saw before her eyes that it worked. ‘Yes, yes — I can pray!
Tracy Groot (Maggie Bright: A Novel of Dunkirk)
Parents die, daughters grow up and marry out, but sisters are for life. She is the only person left in the world who shares my memories of our childhood, our parents, our Shanghai, our struggles, our sorrows, and, yes, even our moments of happiness and triumph. My sister is the one person who truly knows me, as I know her. The last thing May says to me is “When our hair is white, we’ll still have our sister love.
Lisa See (Shanghai Girls (Shanghai Girls, #1))
There was humor in this—it wasn’t lost on him, despite the utterly unhumorous situation. Once upon a time, before Roma met Juliette, before Roma rolled a marble at her feet and fell in love with her, he had been sent into Scarlet territory with another mission. He had been sent in for Rosalind. That was why his father had started to suspect him in the end. Rosalind Lang had become the talk of the town as the best dancer the Scarlet burlesque club had ever seen, and there had been plans for Roma to mingle into the Scarlet crowds, to get closer to Rosalind and obtain Scarlet information under the guise of a great, star-crossed love affair. Instead, Roma had heard rumors of Juliette Cai’s return to Shanghai and had switched gears while crossing onto Scarlet territory, wanting to see this terrible Scarlet heir for himself. He hadn’t stood a chance. The moment he saw Juliette Cai for the first time, saw that smile playing on her lips, standing there at the Bund, it was a done matter. That false star-crossed love affair pivoted and turned real. Roma would claim, in reporting back, he hadn’t had any luck with their plan, yet he kept slinking into Scarlet territory regardless. Of course his father caught on.
Chloe Gong (Our Violent Ends (These Violent Delights #2))
The superficial resemblances were there, but she wondered if they laughed as hard and loved as deep, if they had their hearts broken and if they found family here, or if they were just ships passing in the night. Did they keep in touch decades later? Did Shanghai change them, or was it a mere footnote in the stories of their lives?
Ana Huang (If We Ever Meet Again (If Love, #1))
There will be hatred. There will be war. The country will fight itself to pieces. It will starve its people, ravage its land, poison its breath. Shanghai will fall and break and cry. But alongside everything, there has to be love—eternal, undying, enduring. Burn through vengeance and terror and warfare. Burn through everything that fuels the human heart and sears it red, burn through everything that covers the outside with hard muscle and tough sinew. Cut down deep and grab what beats beneath, and it is love that will survive after everything else has perished.
Chloe Gong (Our Violent Ends (These Violent Delights #2))
Juliette had wanted to be selfish, had wanted to run. But this was their love—violent and bloody. This city was their love. They couldn’t deny their upbringing as the heirs of Shanghai, as two pieces of a throne. What was left of their love if they rejected that? How could they live with themselves, look at each other, knowing they had been presented a choice and gone against who they were at their core?
Chloe Gong (Our Violent Ends (These Violent Delights #2))