Melanthe > Melanthe's Quotes

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  • #1
    V.C. Andrews
    “Life is like that - twenty minutes of misery for every two seconds of joy.”
    V.C. Andrews, If There Be Thorns

  • #2
    V.C. Andrews
    “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.”
    V.C. Andrews, If There Be Thorns

  • #3
    V.C. Andrews
    “I believe in God... but I don't believe in religion. Religion is used to manipulate and punish. Used in a thousand ways for profit for even in the church, money is still the 'real' God.”
    V.C. Andrews, Seeds of Yesterday

  • #4
    V.C. Andrews
    “We lived in the attic,
    Christopher, Cory, Carrie, and me,
    Now there are only three.”
    V.C. Andrews, Flowers in the Attic

  • #5
    V.C. Andrews
    “Seek the tarnish and you shall find”
    V.C. Andrews, If There Be Thorns

  • #6
    V.C. Andrews
    “I wish the night would end,
    I wish the day'd begin,
    I wish it would rain or snow,
    or the wind would blow,
    or the grass would grow,
    I wish I had yesterday,
    I wish there were games to play...”
    V.C. Andrews, Flowers in the Attic

  • #7
    V.C. Andrews
    “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.”
    V.C. Andrews, Flowers in the Attic

  • #8
    V.C. Andrews
    “...for everything can come to those who have the desire,the drive, the dedication, and the determination." v.c.andrews”
    V.C. Andrews, If There Be Thorns

  • #9
    V.C. Andrews
    “Something creaked beneath me! A soft step on rotting wood!
    I jumped startled, scared, and turned, expecting to see-God
    knows what! Then I sighed, for it was only Chris standing in the gloom, silently staring at me. Why? Did I look prettier than
    usual? Was it the moonlight, shining through my airy clothes?
    All random doubts were cleared when he said in a voice
    gritty and low, "You look beautiful sitting there like that." He
    cleared the frog in his throat. "The moonlight is etching you with silver-blue, and I can see the shape of your body through
    your clothes."
    Then, bewilderingly, he seized me by the shoulders, digging
    in his fingers, hard! They hurt. "Damn you, Cathy! You kissed
    that man! He could have awakened and seen you, and demanded
    to know who you were! And not thought you only a part of his
    dream!"
    Scary the way he acted, the fright I felt for no reason at all.
    "How do you know what I did? You weren't there; you were
    sick that night."
    He shook me, glaring his eyes, and again I thought he seemed a stranger. "He saw you, Cathy-he wasn't soundly asleep!"
    "He saw me?" I cried, disbelieving. It wasn't possible . . .
    wasn't!
    "Yes!" he yelled. This was Chris, who was usually in such
    control of his emotions. "He thought you a part of his dream!
    But don't you know Momma can guess who it was, just by
    putting two and two together-just as I have? Damn you and
    your romantic notions! Now they're on to us! They won't leave money casually about as they did before. He's counting, she's
    counting, and we don't have enough-not yet!"
    He yanked me down from the widow sill! He appeared wild
    and furious enough to slap my face-and not once in all our
    lives had he ever struck me, though I'd given him reason to
    when I was younger. But he shook me until my eyes rolled, until
    I was dizzy and crying out: "Stop! Momma knows we can't pass
    through a looked door!"
    This wasn't Chris . . . this was someone I'd never seen
    before . . . primitive, savage.
    He yelled out something like, "You're mine, Cathy! Mine!
    You'll always be mine! No matter who comes into your future,
    you'll always belong to me! I'll make you mine . . . tonight . . .
    now!"
    I didn't believe it, not Chris!
    And I did not fully understand what he had in mind, nor, if I
    am to give him credit, do I think he really meant what he said,
    but passion has a way of taking over.
    We fell to the floor, both of us. I tried to fight him off. We
    wrestled, turning over and over, writhing, silent, a frantic strug-
    gle of his strength against mine.
    It wasn't much of a battle.
    I had the strong dancer's legs; he had the biceps, the greater weight and height . . . and he had much more determination than
    i to use something hot, swollen and demanding, so much it stile reasoning and sanity from him.
    And I loved him. I wanted what he wanted-if he wanted it
    that much, right and wrong.
    Somehow we ended up on that old mattress-that filthy,
    smelly, stained mattress that must have known lovers long
    before this night. And that is where he took me, and forced in
    that swollen, rigid male sex part of him that had to be satisfied.
    It drove into my tight and resisting flesh which tore and bled.
    Now we had done what we both swore we'd never do.”
    V.C. Andrews, Flowers in the Attic/Petals on the Wind



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