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Okay... That's still blind-making.

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
Blind
Okay
Making
Stills
Still

More quotes by Scott Westerfeld

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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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She couldn't disappoint the whole village. There were no wallscreens here, no newsfeeds or satellites bands, and touring soccer teams were no doubt few and far between. (...), that made stories a valuable commodity, and it probably wasn't very often that a stranger dropped in from the sky.
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Frighteningly Beautiful, Dangerously Strong, Breathtakingly Fast. Face it Tally-wa you're special.
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Not everything made you stronger. It was possible to survive, yet still be crippled for your trouble. Sometimes it was okay to run away, to skip the test, to chicken out. Or at least to get some help.
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I guess sometimes you have to lie to find the truth.
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A little drama wins more friends than boring.
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Did you really think I was too fragile to know what Deryn was? Fragile? Volger looked about. I hadn't thought so, but now I find you brooding in a bathroom. This doesn't speak well of your sturdiness.
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But you weren't born expecting that kind of beauty in everyone, all the time. You just got programmed into thinking anything else is ugly.
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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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Perhaps Clankers and Darwinists would always be at war, if only in their hearts.
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And here in America rival newspapermen attack each other on sight?
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Your personality - the real you inside - was the price of beauty.
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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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Never bored on a hoverboard.
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That was one problem with dramatic exits: Sometimes they wound up making you look like a bubblehead.
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So, there was this beautiful princess. She was locked in a high tower(...)She was stuck up there(...)So the only thing was to jump.
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You can't blame a match for a house made of straw, Alek.
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Maybe this was how you stayed sane in wartime: a handful of noble deeds amid the chaos.
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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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There was a species of middle pretty who smiled at everything: happy smile, disappointed smile, you're-in-trouble smile.
Scott Westerfeld