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Mulan Quotes

Browse 18 quotes about Mulan.

Mulan Quotes

“She'd grown up with few friends. She'd played with the neighborhood boys, chasing pigeons and catching fireflies with them until it was no longer considered proper. By then, the girls in the village scorned her. In front of her mother and father, they pretended to be polite, but Mulan knew what they said about her behind her back. Ill-bred and ill-mannered. She has the temper of a firecracker and the grace of a bull. It's a miracle she even looks like a girl- look at the hay in her hair, and the dirt on her face. What a discredit to her mother! The insults had never bothered Mulan too much. Back then, her mother comforted her by telling her to ignore what people said, and talking to her father would always make her feel better. And she'd had Khan for company... then, later, Mushu and Cri-Kee.”

“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.”

“My father used to tell me about the ancient heroes who protected China against demons. How the gods gave them magical stones or lanterns or swords to help them on their quests. But even then, the heroes weren't invincible. They knew fear and loss, yet they fought anyway, because they knew it was the right thing to do. Because in their hearts, they were brave and true." She bit her lip, reflecting on her father's stories. The heroes had always inspired her, even if none of them had been girls.”

“Looking at Mulan, the soldier felt pride, but also compassion. Mulan had mastered the art of war, but there remained obstacles ahead, dangers more nuanced than a simple exchange of swords. She was close to fulfilling her destiny, but first, she'd have to learn the way of the spirits, to use their strength as her own. And she would know pain. Because the fenghuang, the phoenix, that guardian of imperial harmony, does not grant its blessing to everyone. Only the most honest, loyal, and selfless. The one who is brave against encroaching darkness.”

“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.”

“Mulan cast ShiShi an apologetic look, suddenly remembering how she'd cut her own hair before stealing her father's armor. Such a simple action, yet it'd changed everything. She'd severed ties with her old identity and gone from Mulan to Ping, from bride to soldier, from obedient daughter to woman who led her own life. But what if she'd cut too many ties? What if when she went home, her parents no longer recognized her? After all, she wasn't the same Mulan anymore. Sometimes, she didn't even know who she was. She'd thought going to war would show her, but things were never as easy as that.”

“Mulan was proud of these women. Proud of their calm preparations, proud of the ease with which they strapped on their weapons, their gentle yet firm touch with their horses. And she was proud, most of all, of the banner that flew over their heads. It was mud yellow rather than the rich gold of palace silks, since mud yellow was the only shade Ruolan could manage with the herbs at hand. The dragon and phoenix pictured on it were bare outlines. But Ruolan and Wenling had stayed up all night to embroider them, and Mulan could see the heart that had gone into every stitch. Now they would put down their needles and wield their swords with no less skill.”

“China is indeed favored by the gods to have such a lovely blossom grace its throne.” Out of the corner of her eye, Mulan saw Shang’s expression darken. She too heard the insult in those words. Flowers were beautiful and delicate. Ornamental. She bared her teeth in a thin smile. “I’m quite fond of flowers myself. After your’e settled in the state guesthouses, you must tour the imperial gardens. There’s a particular variety called snow lace, a white blossom with rose-tinged petals. I collected it myself from the Tung-Shao Pass. Are you familiar with that region?” The ambassador’s smirk froze on his face. The Tung-Shao Pass was where Mulan’s regiment had defeated Shan Yu’s men. There were already multiple ballads commemorating how Mulan used a rocket to trigger the avalanche that buried his entire army. “Yes, I am familiar with that pass.” “I’m glad,” said Mulan. “It’s the mark of a good ambassador to know his host nation’s land and history, and I’m sure you are one of the very best.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“There’s a balance here of yin and yang, a dance between aggression and gentleness that creates real strength in any warrior. Attack, and fall back. Thrust and parry. It’s beautiful, really.” Mulan thrust her sword forward and then skipped back. “A balance of yin and yang,” she repeated. “I don't have to turn myself into a man to fight or rule. And I don't have to be a docile woman like my ministers expect me to be. I can be gentle and strong as circumstances requires.”

“At least when she'd been a soldier in the army, she'd had a clear idea of what was expected of her: fight to defend China. But the war was over, and thanks to her, Shan-Yu had been defeated. It was unheard of for a woman to be a military hero, and the last thing Mulan had anticipated was for the Emperor himself to publicly honor her in front of the entire capital, then ask her to become one of his advisors--- the most coveted and respected position in the Imperial City, offered only to the top scholars in all of China!”