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Having a brain hurt so much sometimes.
Scott Westerfeld
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Scott Westerfeld
Age: 61
Born: 1963
Born: May 5
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Dallas
Texas
Scott David Westerfeld
Hurt
Brain
Sometimes
Much
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Your personality - the real you inside - was the price of beauty.
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My name is tally youngblood and my mind is very ugly
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She thought of the orchids spreading across the plains below, choking the life out of other plants, out of the soil itself, selfish and unstoppable. Tally Youngblood was a weed. And, unlike the orchids, she wasn't even a pretty one.
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History would indicate that the majority of people have always been sheep.
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I expect that you must receive top marks at school, young lady. Madeleine smiled as she stirred her tea. There are always rewards for those who state the obvious frequently and with conviction.
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Do you love him? Deryn swallowed, then pointed at the screen. He makes me feel like that. Like flying.
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He squeezed her hand. Then I'll come get you, wherever you are when it happens. We'll be okay. But what about everybody else? He stared out across the river, nodding slowly. My guess is, everybody else is in big trouble.
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I have no formal training as a writer at all, not even a single English class in college.
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I guess sometimes you have to lie to find the truth.
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Perhaps it's worth saying again: One reader's discomfort should never stand in the way of another reader's survival.
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I love my virginity to the apocalypse.
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Once we turn, it’s new pretty, middle pretty, late pretty.” Shay dropped her arms, and her board stopped drifting. “Then dead pretty.
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Gravity was something you could beat all it took was hydrogen, hot air, or even a bit of rope. But being a girl was a miserable, never-ending struggle.
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The early summer sky was the color of cat vomit. Of course, Tally thought, you’d have to feed your cat only salmon-flavored cat food for a while, to get the pinks right.
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With everything so perfect, reality seemed somehow fragile, as if the slightest interruption could imperil her pretty future... all of it felt as tenuous as a soap bubble, shivering and empty.
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Left alone, human beings are a plague. They multiply relentlessly, consuming every resource, destroying everything they touch.
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Maybe she still was a pretty-head, making up irrational stories about the empty forest. The longer she stayed alone out here, the more Tally understood why the Rusties and their predecessors had believed in invisible beings, praying to placate spirits as they trashed the natural world around them.
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Sometimes, the hardest thing was doing nothing.
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And you know, these things don't last forever.' I know, Mandy. Nothing does.' That's the spirit.
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But it's always taking a risk, when you ... kiss someone new.
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