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And it was pretty clear that no prince was showing up, or at least that he was really late.

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
Really
Prince
Showing
Late
Pretty
Least
Clear

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You all say you need us. Well, maybe you do, but not to help, with the millions of bubbly new minds about to be unleashed, with all the cities coming awake at last. Together, you're more than enough to change the world without us. So from now on, David and I are here to stand in your way. You see, freedom has a way of destroying things.
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Everyone in the world was programmed by the place they were born, hemmed in by their beliefs, but you had to at least try to grow your own brain.
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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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He turned to face her again, his late-pretty composure crumbling. But you're... Pretty? Think again. She smiled. I'm Tally Youngbood. My mind is very ugly. And I'm taking your car.
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Sometimes, the hardest thing was doing nothing.
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In a world of extreme beauty, anyone normal is ugly.
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Turns out if you never lie, there's always someone mad at you.
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I used to be a pre-industrial writer: thousands of words in a spurt and then a few days off. But as I get older, I've switched to a mode best described as 'slow and steady wins the race.' Basically, I write during the same four hours every day, after breakfast and the all-important coffee, generally in the same room and wearing the same pajamas.
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It's just the way things are. she shrugged. It's no one's fault. Or everyone's.
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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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Dude, I just watched you climb up a f*cking building!-Lace
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What you do, the way you think, makes you beautiful.
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They walked with a pedatory grace.... one of them ripped off their hood and said, my name is Tally Youngblood and is a special circumstance.
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Their reasons don't mean anything unless I have a choice.
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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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The lie took form as she spoke, pulling on as many strands of truth as it could reach.
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We needed to become world-famous soon, while there was still that kind of world to be famous in.
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Plot idea: 97% of the world's scientists contrive an environmental crisis, but are exposed by a plucky band of billionaires & oil companies.
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