“You foreigners,” he said. “You come to China and complain about thepollution, but I don’t know why.” He then gestured at the blurredlandscape around us. “To me, this place smells like money.”

“They said I looked like a foreign devil; they said I spoke like a foreign devil. I made mistakes in manners, and I didn't know delicacies that had grown up since my father left. They wouldn't have me. You can believe it or not - I'm less foreign here than I was in China.”

“Why don’t you lift the end?” said Alf.“It’s me back, Alf,” complained Mack. “You know how it troubles me.”“No more than mine troubles me,” said Alf.“But I said it first,” said Mack.”

“She set her hands neatly in her lap. “But you just said he liked you.” “No, I said he enjoys my company. That is, he enjoys hating me. Or pretending to hate me. I don’t know which. But I’m finding it difficult to completely dislike someone who gets pleasure from having me around. ...“So he likes being mean to you,” she said. “And you like that he likes being mean to you.” “And I like being mean to him, too, don’t forget.” “Of course not. Pleasure from meanness. There’s a name for it: sadomasochism.”

“Until you've lived through all that," he said, "don't you ever complain about what we have. Because to me... to me..." He choked on the words, but he barely paused before he continued. "This - us - is heaven. I can't bear to hear you say otherwise.”

“Most people don’t know where money comes from. Even most of our elected officials don’t know. If you were to ask a politician where money comes from, s/he would probably reply, “I don’t know, from other people’s pockets?”