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We lived in the attic, Christopher, Cory, Carrie, and me, Now there are only three.

Virginia C. Andrews

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Virginia C. Andrews
Christopher
Carrie
Lived
Three
Cory
Attic
Attics

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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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Angel, saint, Devil's spawn, good or evil, you've got me pinned to the wall and labeled as yours until the day I die. And if you die first, then it won't be long before I follow.
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People make the rules of society, not God.
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...for everything can come to those who have the desire,the drive, the dedication, and the determination. v.c.andrews
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Time doesn't heal scars as most people commonly think. It simply makes them firmer, stiffer. One must accept it and not hope to mend and return to what he or she once was.
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It is so appropriate to color hope yellow, like the sun we seldom saw. And as I begin to copy from the old memorandum journals that I kept for so long, a title comes as if inspired. 'Open the Window and Stand in the Sunshine.' Yet, I hesitate to name our story that. For I think of us more as flowers in the attic.
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Little rabbits have big ears.
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I am a pretty, useless ornament who always believed she'd have a man to take care of her.
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Life offers more than one chance, Cathy, you know that.
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Love, how often that word came up in books over and over again. If you had wealth and health, and beauty and talent...you had nothing if you didn't have love. Love changed all that was ordinary into something giddy, powerful, drunken, enchanted.
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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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The creative genius begins in the idle moment, dreaming up the impossible, and later making it come true.
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Unless i'm reading an assignment or doing a paper or taking a test, i'm thinking about you.
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Life is like that - twenty minutes of misery for every two seconds of joy.
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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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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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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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Love, when it came and knocked on my door, was going to be enough. And that unknown author who'd written that if you had fame, it was not enough, and if you had wealth as well, it was still not enough, and if you had fame, wealth, and also love ... still it was not enough - boy, did I feel sorry for him.
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There is no hate such as that born out of love betrayed- and my brain screamed out for revenge.
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A flower blooms best in a happy pot.
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