V.C. Andrews Quotes

Another year passed, much as the first did.

Being a good listener is the perfect way to avoid answering questions you'd rather ignore.

It's not good to be alone when you feel bereft. It's better to be with people and share your grief, and not keep it locked up inside.
She said this dry-eyed, with not a tear, but somewhere deep inside her she was crying, screaming.

I realize we lose our innocence in many ways, the most painful being when we realize those who are supposed to love us and care for us more than anything, really care for themselves and their own pleasures more. It's painful because it makes you realize how alone you really are.

The Bible said, as Chris quoted one memorable day, there was a time for
everything. I figured my time for happiness was just ahead, waiting
for me.

It's better not to make a promise than to make one you can't keep.

Never would I become so dependent on a man I couldn't make my way in the world, no matter what cruel blow life delivered!

You were right the first time, Cathy. It was a stupid, silly story.
Ridiculous! Only insane people would die for the sake of love. I'll
bet you a hundred to one a woman wrote that junky romantic trash!"
Just a minute ago I'd despised that author for bringing about such a
miserable ending, then there I went, rushing to the defense. "T. M.
Ellis could very well have been a man! Though I doubt any woman writer
in the nineteenth century had much chance of being published, unless
she used her initials, or a man's name. And why is it all men think
everything a woman writes is trivial or trashy-or just plain silly
drivel? Don't men have romantic notions? Don't men dream of finding
the perfect love? And it seems to me, that Raymond was far more
mushy-minded than Lily!

Shadows in the house put shadows in the mind.

I don't think anything about the human body and the way it functions is disgusting or revolting.

I had heard the wind from the mountains calling me last night, telling me it was my time to go, and I woke up, knowing what to do.

In the dark, the little live Christmas tree, two feet tall, sparkled with tiny coloured lights, like the tears I saw glistening in my brother's eyes.

Why doesn't the Good Book say honor thy children, Grandpa, why doesn't it?

We gotta appreciate Grandpa while he's still with us, an not save our caring for his funeral day.

We'll make it work, because two people who are sincerely in love can always overcome obstacles no matter what they are.

If a little hill of happiness would satisfy Chris, good for him. But
after all these years of striving, hoping, dreaming, longing-I wanted a
mountain high! A hill wasn't enough.

You've got to learn something from every defeat in life or life will defeat you.

Death can be a good friend to those in extreme pain. I wondered how he held on so long ...

Children are very wise
intuitively; they know who loves them most, and who only pretends.

Love is fragile at best and often a burden or something that blinds us. It's fodder for poets and song writers and they build it into something beyond human capacity. Falling in love means enrolling yourself in the school of disappointment. Being human means failing each other often, and no two people fail each other more than two people who pledge to do things for each other that they'll never do because they are just incapable of it ... That's why art is enduring. The look of love or hope, or the look of compassion, bravery, whatever, is captured forever. We spend our lives trying to get someone to be as enduring as a painting or a sculpture and we can't because feelings crumble as quickly as the flesh.

Yes, I am a prisoner of sorts, but my prison isn't the house. It's my own thoughts that lock me up!

The part that Sahsa moved into Alena's bedroom and slleps in Alena's bed and uses her belongings.But there is someone else who don't like the idea that someone is useing her sister's room and her stuff .So she tries to make sure that Sahsa never takes her sister's place and is jealous so she plans on making Sahsa'a Life A Living Hell.

Cathy, don't look so defeated. She was only trying to put us down
again.
Maybe nothing did work out right for her, but that doesn't mean we are
doomed. Let's go forth tomorrow with no great expectations of finding
perfection. Then, expecting only a small share of happiness, we won't
be disappointed.

Too much money buys everything but health, so they have no dreams left to purchase, and no aspirations, so in the end they are only bored.

We're going to change. We're going to throw out what's worse in us
and keep what's best. But come hell or high water, we three will stick
together, all for one, one for all. We're going to grow, Cathy,
physically, mentally, and emotionally. Not only that, we're going to
reach the goals we've set for ourselves. I'll be the best damned
doctor the world's ever known and you will make Pavlova seem like an
awkward country girl.

You have to be a wonderful actress or actor to survive in this world.

What is normal? Normal is only ordinary; mediocre. Life belongs to the rare, exceptional individual who dares to be different.

We learned love was just like a soap bubble, so shining and bright one day, and the next day it popped.

It was the eyes. The secret of love was in the eyes. The way one person looked at another, the way eyes communicated and spoke when the lips never moved.

I loved her in an odd kind of way, the way you love winter when you're hot in summer.

Whatever doesn't destroy you, makes you stronger. Hardships have a way of toughening us, if they don't kill us.

Nostalgia was nothing more than dissatisfaction with the present. Anything looked better than now, even harder times. It was a fantasy that people accept.

God, He didn't write the scripts for the puny little players down
here.
We wrote them ourselves-with each day we lived, each word we spoke,
each thought we etched on our brains. And Momma had written her
script, too.
And a sorry one it was.

needing arms to hold me safe during the darkness, wanting kisses on my face to put me to sleep, to wake me up, to put over me a safe parasol of love.

I could have slapped him from the way he moved backward, abandoning the sweet ecstasy of kissing forbidden places that had aroused me. He sat up on the side of the bed and bowed his head into his hands. Then he sobbed, "Always you manage to defeat me, Cathy! First Paul, then Julian . . . and now a baby." Then suddenly he faced me. "Come away and let me be the father to that child! Julian isn't fit! If you never let me touch you, let me live near enough so I can see you every day and hear your voice. Sometimes I want it back like it used to be . . . just you and I, and our twins.

Candy. He spoke of candy. Was he still in the child's world where candy stood for something sweet enough to hold back tears? I had grown older, and had lost enthusiasm for childish delights. I wanted what every teenager wants
freedom to develop into a woman, freedom to have full control over my life! Though I tried to tell him this, my voice had dried up along with my tears.

Most of our teachers, knowing we had an extra day off, usually piled on the homework to make up for it.

-just on the verge of
becoming a woman, and in these three years and almost five months, I'd
reached maturity. I was older than the mountains outside. The wisdom
of the attic was in my bones, etched on my brain, part of my flesh.

Only someone who had cried a great deal understands why someone else wants to stop the tears.

We don't anticipate accidents, nor do we expect to die young.

Everyone is an actor. In the end, everyone wants applause.

Don't try to appeal to me when I feel sick to my stomach. I ask myself each day how I can come home and not be tired of you, and still feel as I do after so many years, and after all that has happened. Yet I go on year after year loving you, needing and trusting you. Don't take my love and make it into something ugly!

And when I fall in love," I began, "I will build a mountain to touch the sky. Then, my lover and I will have the best of both worlds, reality firmly under our feet, while we have our heads in the clouds with all our illusions still intact. And the purple grass will grow all around, high enough to reach our eyes.

I don't know if it's for the better, but I do know people aren't static. We all change from day to day.

What had Sylvia done?

The weight of the lie was so great it almost didn't escape my lips and barely made it to her ears

Still, we were young, and hope has strong roots in
the young, right down to their toes,

Eyes never learn how to lie

And why is it all men think
everything a woman writes is trivial or trashy-or just plain silly
drivel? Don't men have romantic notions? Don't men dream of finding
the perfect love?

I brushed it until it shone and looked somewhat like it used to look,
only far thinner, and less glorious.

Why did I think back then, that happiness was always just ahead in the future, when I would be an adult, able to make my own decisions, go my own way, be my own person? Why had it seemed that being a child was never enough?

Though I'm not sure, I thought I saw women dressed in black, with her head and face covered by a black veil, duck behind a tree as we approached the road and parked car. Hiding so we wouldn't see her. But I caught a glimpse, enough to reveal the rope of lustrous pearls she wore. Pearls that were there for a thin white hand to lift and nervously, out of long habit, twist and untwist into a knot. Only one women I knew did that
and she was the perfect one to wear black, and should run to hide!
Forever hide! Color all her days black! Every last one!

I sighed, he sighed, the wind and flowers sighed too. I think those marble statues sighed along as well, in their lack of understanding the human condition

Dreams, I thought. They're the riches of a poor person, stashed in treasure chests buried deeply in the imagination. But are dreams enough?

Truth is comfortable in your eyes, but falsehood looks for ways to escape and clearly shows itself in the way you look at the person to whom you are lying.

I was the last of the four Dresden dolls. Only me... and I didn't want to be here.

I knew then he was blind when he looked at me.

Maybe that was what millions could do
nail a satisfied smirk to one's face.

I remembered Grandmere Catherine used to tell me your first impressions about people usually prove to be the truest because your heart is the first to react.

She's a beautiful flower put in a pot and hidden in a closet. You can't keep her a little girl forever.

We had been separated by time and distance and events so long, it was as if we had to get to know each other again, but if it was possible to fall in love with the same person twice, I did.

children were like plants - they had to have sunshine if they were to grow.

People never really died. They only went on to a better place, to wait a while for their loved ones to join them. And then once more they went back to the world, in the same way they had arrived the first time around.

My heart felt like a cold ember. Last night it flamed with hope. Today it was coated with ashes.

Way you find out how much they care is by looking into the eyes - eyes never learn how to lie.

People make the rules of society, not God.

To believe in God is a good thing, a right thing. But when you reinforce your belief with words you take from the Old Testament that you seek out, and interpret in the ways that suit your needs best, that is hypocrisy,

Books were enough to send him off on a high tangent, knowing he had a way to escape to other worlds.

Once I was in the cold dim room, without furniture or carpet or rugs, only a dollhouse that wasn't as wonderful as the original, I opened the tall and narrow closet door and began my ascent up the steep and narrow stairs.
On my way to the attic.
On my way to where I'd find my Christopher, again...

The high temperatures and the coughing had left them with a wise look, a sometimes sly look of the old, the tired, the ones who just lay and didn't care if the sun came up, or if it went down, and stayed down. They scared me; their haunted faces took me into dreams of death.

We will not open healed wounds!"
"My wounds are not healed!" I stated just as firmly. "They will never be healed until justice is done!

If you hold a bird too tightly, you'll crush its wings

Love doesn't spurt up like an instant bonfire, consuming all reason, it flickers and falters, and sometimes almost goes out. The fact that it doesn't go out, despite all the rain that fall on it
that's love.

It's not that I'm afraid to die, it's only the road to death that terrifies me, for sometimes it can be so drawn out.

I lay so still in the gloom I could hear the house breathe, and the boards of the floors whispered, conniving a way to keep me here forever.

Asleep you don't feel pain or hunger, or loneliness, or bitterness. In sleep you can drown in false euphoria, and when you awaken, you just don't care about anything.

All you need do is say good-bye to yesterday's loves, and hello to the new. Look around and see who needs you most and you won't go wrong. Forget who needed you yesterday.

Getting older means learning how to leave with doubt and how to get home again.

The world belongs to those who know how to speak well, and fortunes are made by those who write well,

I lay on my back and stared up at that unseeing, uncaring sky. I doubted God lived up there; I doubted heaven was up there, too.
God and heaven were down there on the ground, in the gardens, in the forests, in the parks, on the seashores, on the lakes, and riding the highways, going somewhere!

Swing low, sweet chariot, comin'for t'carry me home ... ' was the tune I hummed as I made the beds, and waited for the news to come that our grandfather was on his way to heaven if his gold counted, and to hell if the Devil couldn't be bribed.

Love, in short is the most dangerous emotion human can experience

You are the most dangerous kind of female the world can ever know. You carry the seeds for your own destruction and the destruction of everyone who loves you. And a great many will love you for your beautiful face for your seductive body; but you will fail them all because you will believe they all fail you first. You are an idealist of the worst kind - the romantic idealist. Born to destroy and self destruct.

Tragedy had sent me headlong into reality. All the things I had seen before now looked different, even nature.

Maybe there was something wrong with me, but unlike my friends, I wasn't eager to rush into adulthood and get away from everything that tied me to my life as it was now.

eyes kept changing colors, jumbling his kaleidoscope emotions.

What if I am a curse?" "Then you're the prettiest and nicest curse I know.

I'm a fool. I expect too much, then I'm angry because nothing ever works out the way I want. When I was young and full of hopes and aspirations, I didn't know I would get hurt so often. I think I'll get tough and won't ache again, then my fragile shell shatters, and again, symbolically, my blood is spilled with the tears I shed. I pull myself back together again, go on, convince myself there is a reason for everything, and at some point in my life it will be disclosed. And when I have what I want, I hope to god it stays long enough to let me know I have it, and it wont hurt when it goes, for I don't expect it to stay, not now. I'm like a doughnut, always being punch out in the middle, and constantly I go around searching for the missing piece, and on and on it goes, never ending, only beginning ...

I love you," was his reply. "I make myself keep on loving you, despite what you do. I've got to love you. We all have to love you, and believe in
you, and think you are looking out for our best interests. But look at us, Momma, and really see us.

Maybe thats because we take criticism best from those we love and those who love us-Ethan

Love ... I put so much faith in it. Truth ... I kept believing it falls always from the lips of the one you love and trust the most. Faith ... it's all bound up to love and trust. Where does one end and the other start, and how do you tell when love is the blindest of all?

From this day forward, I vowed
to myself, I was in control of my life. Not fate, not
God, not even Chris was ever again going to tell me what to do, or
dominate me in any way. From this day forward, I was my own person, to
take what I would, when I would, and I would answer only to myself.

You can trust a few some of the time, and most none of the time. Feel lucky if you have even one to trust all of the time.

What are you offering now?" I asked suspiciously. "Just me, my friendship. Just me, and the now-and-then right to kiss you, hold your hand, touch your hair, and take you to the movies, and listen to your dreams because you listen to mine, and be silly once in a while, build a past we'll enjoy rememberings - that's all.

I want my name to mean something after I'm dead.

Where was that fragile, golden-fair Dresden doll I used to be? Gone.
Gone like porcelain turned into steel-made into someone who would
always get what she wanted, no matter who or what stood in her way.

To my lady Catherine,

I give you gold with a diamond you can barely see,

But the gem would be castle-sized if it expressed all I feel for thee.

I give you gold because it endures, and love like the eternal sea.

Only your brother, Christopher.

I wanted to believe in witches, wizards, ogres, giants, and enchanted spells. I didn't want all of the magic taken out of the world by scientific explanation.

What women wanted to be eaten alive, choked by a thrusting tongue? Not me, I wanted to be played like a violin, strummed pianissimo, in largo timing, fingered into legato, and let it grow into crescendo.

According to the accounts, which we've recorded, there was a motorist driving a blue Ford weaving in and out of the lefthand lane, apparently drunk, and he crashed head-on into your husband's car. But it seems your husband must have seen the accident coming, for he swerved to avoid a head-on collision, but a piece of machinery had fallen from another car, or truck, and this kept him from completing his correct defensive driving maneuver, which would have saved his life. But as it was, your husband's much heavier car turned over several times, and still he might have survived, but an oncoming truck, unable to stop, crashed into his car, and again the Cadillac spun over ... and then ... it caught on fire.