Richelle E Goodrich Quotes

Children harbor a great many doubts and sorrows that could be eased by a loving hug from a parent.

A smile is a light that sets your inner self aglow, letting others know you’re home.

Courage doesn’t defeat fear or erase fear or adjust to fear. Courage acts, plain and simple, in the midst of fear.

She imagined him leaning against the shuttle, entertaining thoughts of scolding her for dressing like a ragged commoner. Never mind that her present outfit was light years ahead in comfort.(Actually, he’s wishing he had been less critical of you earlier. He feels bad that you won’t acknowledge his presence, and he blames himself.)(Quit it, Ian. I’m not going to feel sorry for him.)She caught her protector’s shrewd grin, highlighted by the fire’s glow. (You already do, Queenie.)(This talent of yours is really annoying.)He leaned close to her ear and whispered, “That’s not what you thought earlier when you wanted to get ahold of Efren.” “One tiny rosebud in a handful of thorns,” she retorted.

I’ve had the kind of bad day no quote can fix.

Beauty is a behavior. As is ugliness.

I never realized how much you meant to me until someone spoke your name and an irrepressible, goofy grin stretched my lips.

There is love and then there is fluff. Nothing else.

Some birthdays make you happy.Some birthdays bring you down.Some birthdays make you jump for joyWhile others paint a frown.Regardless of your feelingsOr if you’re far or near,The earth was blessed this special dayWhen Heaven placed you here.

Art doesn’t bare itself to just anyone, but to believers called artists.

You stand a better chance of bringing pretend to life through the power of belief than you stand any chance of erasing what's real by refusing to believe.

When I ask you to be my valentine, I’m not asking you to love me. I’m simply asking you to accept tokens of my love for you.

I like bubbles in everything. I respect the power of silence. In cold or warm weather I favor a mug of hot cocoa. I admire cats―their autonomy, grace, and mystery. I awe at the fiery colors in a sunset. I believe in deity. I hear most often with my eyes, and I will trust a facial expression before any accompanying comment. I invent rules, words, adventures, and imaginary friends. I pretend something wonderful every day. I will never quit pretending.

They tell me you're the best and the worst thing to have happened to me, but I do not see how it can be both. For if my death resulted from your presence, an everlasting sleep would have me dreaming happily of us together. I see no bad in that. Therefore, you must be the best thing to have ever happened to me because you make the worst seem wonderful.

Do we ignore the needyto spite the greedy?Or share and defenddespite those who pretend?

Man is dust. Rue is rain. Life is mud.

Alas, impatience is but another form of unhappiness. It is true, it is true. I have never met a happy impatient person.

Moments always blossom more beautifully in memories.

The wind is made of haunting souls that moan and groan in whistles and whispers. This ghostly choir chills the breeze and orchestrates a rise of goose bumps on my skin.

Your face is engraved in my mind. I can’t erase it. I don’t want to. Because as much as I hate you, I love you. And I love you unforgettably.

If there weren’t so many interesting conversations taking place inside my head, I might venture to speak out loud.

The best fathers have the softest, sweetest hearts. In other words, great dads are real marshmallows.

Who cares who's right or wrong when the last word is a kind apology?

The first real day of spring is like the first time a boy holds your hand. A flood of skin-tingling warmth consumes you, and everything shines with a fresh, colorful glow, making you forget that anything as cold and harsh as winter ever existed.

If you mess with dragons, you will get burned. Don’t say no one warned you.

In one way or another,you owe your life to Mother.

I dream of defeating tyrants and ogres as well as circumstances and consequences that I cannot conquer in life. I dream of a love as sweet and addictive as chocolate-coated rose petals yet as tenacious as a thirsty vampire and as enduring as immortality. I dream of things improbable and boldly insane.

Snowflakes fall from high.Flurries lift and twirl below.The world has turned white.

Laughter can deflate almost any problem down to its proper size.

When you understand that faith is God’s muscle at your disposal, moving mountains doesn’t seem so extraordinary.

I slay dragons at night while you sleep. I see by the way your face contorts how they exist in your dreams. Willing a magic sword, I plunge into your deepest nightmares and swing at the beasts with all my might, dodging flames exhaled by monsters that would eat me alive to go on torturing the fair one I love. I see your face relax, eyes still drowsily closed, when the mighty dragon is slain. It may be that my fingers rub soft circles on your forehead as I imagine my brave fight as a knight reclaiming your dreams. You smile under the spell of my touch, and I am rewarded. And so, my love, as I await the dawn, I stand ready to slay dragons while you sleep.

The search only ends when you finally find the one who truly gets you.

They say to never look back.But sometimes I do. It’s gratifying to see how far I’ve come.

Sail through the good days, and on bad days pick a spot of blue sky to steer toward.

Someday my children will look fondly on the annoying things I did and see them clearly as evidence of love.

For every one person who praises you, there are a hundred who would criticize. Heed neither the one nor the hundred. It is your own opinion that truly matters.

I hate you, Edgar. I hate you with all my heart.

Years ago, a group of good, wise, brave, God-fearing men stood up to claim and defend the human right for independence. Those men are now dead. Their work is not. If good, wise, brave, God-fearing men fail to stand up in their stead, that independence will cease to exist.

Happiness has two hands: one with strength for lifting up heavy hearts and a gentle hand for tickling.

I once thought it would take a miracle to improve my circumstances. Now, I believe it will take something far more powerful, if such a thing exists.

Some books mirror reality while others are entirely fantasy. My favorite are those that manage to weave both into a world.

Often we withhold our affections, waiting first for love to be extended to us. The irony is that we are loved for loving.

There are trials in life that feel as tremendous as a quest to slay dragons. These trials are daunting. They require hard work, determination, and courage. But when the dragon is finally slain, the relief is immense.

The earth provides us a brand new beginning every twenty-four hours. It is a repeated invitation to breathe in the cool morning air and start afresh; to mimic the sunrise and brighten up while reaching once more for the sky; to carry a glad song in our heart like the early birds; and, as faithfully as the morning dew, to wash off the dust from yesterday.

When you love someone, you don’t care that she ate your sandwich. You only hope she found it delicious.

A guilty conscience pushed me to try harder—which I did for what seemed like a tremendous amount of wasted time, staring bug-eyed at uncooperative pencils. What was missing? The answer seemed obvious—intense emotional incentive. But at the moment I didn’t feel desperate or angry or afraid. Just severely bored out of my mind and guilt-ridden for feeling so mind-numbingly b

When it comes to fighting for your dreams, be a dragon. Breathe fire.

Lies don't fit snugly into disguises. Eventually the cloak falls off and you're left staring at the naked truth which is always an uncomfortable situation.

Treats and tricks.Witch broomsticks.Jack-o-lanternsLick their lips.Crows and cats.Vampire bats.Capes and fangsAnd pointed hats.Werewolves howl.Phantoms prowl.Halloween’s Upon us now.

An inexhaustible imagination is the fountain of youth.

At the core of love is validation. It is what gives love power. For when love is given away, validation seeps in and expands in the heart of the recipient, filling up every empty, dark corner. It is a wonderful, light, consuming feeling we long for, and once found, we hope—even expect—it will forever remain. But there are times when that most precious love is revoked, and a hard scab forms over the empty hole. Though this scab is both healing and protective, it is the reason why validation from future love may not seep in so easily, no matter how wanting the heart.

Acknowledge that some moments are just plain awful―desperate and gloomy and painful and miserable and nothing at all but anguish. No truthful, cheerful thought in the world will fix it. So let me cry awhile. Don't try to find a sunbeam where a shroud of darkness encloses me. Let me mourn. Then, after the storm, when the tears have run dry and my eyes choose to open, I will look for your rainbow of hope.

I do listen. I just wait for the words to stop and your eyes to speak.

A hero is a person who, without a second thought, simply does the right thing because his conscience cannot live with any other choice.

Problems are never as difficult as when they are your own.

Your life is a personal lesson. For everyone else it is a loud example.

The sweetest melody that playson starry nights and wintry days,most soothing to my listening earsand calming to beleaguering fears,I call a symphony on air―the song of sweet, still silence rare.

Sometimes ideas flow from my mind in a raging river of stringed sentences; I can scarcely scribble on the page fast enough to keep up with the mental current. Sometimes, however, beavers move in and dam the whole thing up.

Don't seek to be happy; let everyone else chase after that rainbow. Seek to be kind, and you'll find the rainbow follows you.

The whispers you hear in your ear that you fear in the air everywhere,they are ghosts.The moans and the groans in the lowest of tones no one owns or condones, they are ghosts.You might deem them gremlins or water or wind,while others say shadows or rodents or sin.But oh! I say no! ‘Tis not so, child, for lo!The chills that you feel in a thrill that proves goose bumps are frightfully real,they are ghosts!