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

Virginia C. Andrews

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Virginia C. Andrews
Persons
Riches
Person
Treasure
Enough
Deeply
Dreams
Imagination
Poor
Stashed
Dream
Chests
Thought
Buried

More quotes by Virginia C. Andrews

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Children are very wise intuitively they know who loves them most, and who only pretends.
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... and still I stayed to plan all my revenge, my vengeance against those who had turned me from good to evil, and made of me what I was going to be from this day forward.
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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.
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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.
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There was a war going on in our house. A silent war that sounded no guns, and the bodies that fell were only wishes that died and the bullets were only words and the blood that spilled was always called pride.
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Patience. I colored patience gray, hung over with black clouds. I colored hope yellow, just like the sun we could see for a few short morning hours. Too soon the sun rose high in the sky & disappeared from view, leaving us bereft and staring at blue.
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Life is like that - twenty minutes of misery for every two seconds of joy.
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We lived in the attic, Christopher, Cory, Carrie, and me, Now there are only three.
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you've got to learn something from every defeat in life or life will defeat you.
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I don't think she's ever coming back.
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Love doesn't always come when you want it to. Sometimes it just happens, despite your will.
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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.
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My thoughts took frantic flight, wanting to escape this prison, and seek out the wind so it could fan my hair and sting my skin, and make me feel alive again.
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It's funny how when you're little, you miss all the little lies. They float right past you, but you don't wonder about them much. For a long time, you think this is just something adults still do after being kids - pretend.
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Tragedy had sent me headlong into reality. All the things I had seen before now looked different, even nature.
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A flower blooms best in a happy pot.
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At the end of the rainbow waited the pot of gold. But rainbows were made of faint and fragile gossamer-and gold weighed a ton-and since the world began, gold was the reason to do most anything.
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I never realized that the blue sky I saw was not the soft, nurturing sky of spring, but the cold, chilling, lonely sky of winter
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Seek the tarnish and you shall find
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People make the rules of society, not God.
Virginia C. Andrews