We're better off not worrying about ourselves, and to do that, we have to worry about others.

— V.C. Andrews

We're going to change. We're going to throw out what's worse in sand 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.

— V.C. Andrews

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!

— V.C. Andrews

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

— V.C. Andrews

What's donas done. Say goodbye to the past, and hello to the future And we'recasting time, when already we've wasted enough. We've got everything ahead, waiting for us." Just the right words to make me feel real, alive, free! Free enough to forget thoughts of revenge.

— V.C. Andrews

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

— V.C. Andrews

You are an intriguing combination, half child, half seductress, half angel.

— V.C. Andrews

You are an intriguing combination, half child, half seductress, half angel." I laughed sort and bitterly. "That's what all men like to think about women. Little girls they have to take care of--when I know for a fact it is the male who is more boy than man.

— V.C. Andrews

You know what I miss the most about my youth? My gullibility. It's nice believing in everything and everyone. It makes you feel secure, but be strong and depend more on yourself, and you'll be ready for disappointments. That's the best advice I can offer you.

— V.C. Andrews

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 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 write-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!

— V.C. Andrews