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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
Cory
Attic
Attics
Christopher
Carrie
Lived
Three

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Only someone who had cried a great deal understands why someone else wants to stop the tears.
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Maybe thats because we take criticism best from those we love and those who love us-Ethan
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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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I don't think she's ever coming back.
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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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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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Life offers more than one chance, Cathy, you know that.
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Mine are the deep-seated fears established when we are children, and they never quite go away: the fear of being helpless, the fear of being trapped, the fear of being out of control.
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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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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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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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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?
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love, is an unnatural attachment to another living thing. it's the root cause of most personal problems people have.
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Seek the tarnish and you shall find
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Life is like that - twenty minutes of misery for every two seconds of joy.
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A flower blooms best in a happy pot.
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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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Promises are lies wrapped in pretty ribbons -Cinnamon
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you've got to learn something from every defeat in life or life will defeat you.
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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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