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“You really think I’m pretty enough for a man to love?” “You’re more than pretty enough.” He sounded embarrassed. “Chris, remember when Momma told us that it was money that made the world go around and not love? Well, I think she’s wrong.” “Yeah? Give that a bit more thought. Why can’t you have both?” I gave it thought. Plenty of thought. I lay and stared up at the ceiling that was my dancing floor, and I mulled life and love over and over. And from every book I’d ever read, I took one wise bead of philosophy and strung them all into a rosary to believe in for the rest of my life. 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.” — V.C. Andrews