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Let others wage war. You, lucky Austria, shall marry.

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
War
Others
Austria
Wage
Marry
Lucky
Shall

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It's just programming No. It's because I love him
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Typographical laziness was slowly destroying our culture, according to Lexa and her pals. Inexactitude was death.
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She wasn't here to gawk. She was an infiltrator, a sneak, an ugly. And she had a mission.
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He and I have this... personality conflict. Namely, I think he should get a new one.
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It's just been a long week, that's all. It's monday night, Jess. My point exactly.
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Sooner or later usually means too late
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That Shay was in possesion of hand grenades was a comforting thought showed what kind of night this had become.
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Lilt pulled away. I saw what he was doing, so I cleared a path for him. I helped him do it... She shook her head, tears tracking the dust off her face, and turned to stare at the fallen tower. Have we all gone mad to want this?
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Cure for writer's block: blow something up(in the story)
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In a world of extreme beauty, anyone normal is ugly.
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The world rests upon a turtle, which itself stands on the back of an elephant!” Alek tried not to laugh. “Then what does the elephant stand on, madam?” “Don’t try to be clever, young man.” She narrowed her eyes. “It’s elephants all the way down!
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there was a beautiful princess with a prince kissing her lips only the prince was totally ugly
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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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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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you dont see me, now you do, but only if i want you to
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Having a brain hurt so much sometimes.
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the parties are no fun until everyone gets drunk
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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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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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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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