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Turns out if you never lie, there's always someone mad at you.

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
Someone
Always
Never
Mad
Lying
Turns

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Didn't this beat everything? A pretty and an ugly taking a stroll together. The warden came closer, confusion all over his middle-pretty face. Tally smiled. At least she was causing trouble to the end. I'm Tally Youngblood, she said. Make me pretty.
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Life doesn't come with an instruction manual.
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You look beautiful - David
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Tally turned away. Five minutes was suddenly too long to stand here, eyes burning, unable to cry.
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Surely no one would ever use such a weapon against a city. There are no limits in war, Volger said, still staring out the window.
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What happens when perfection isn't good enough?
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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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The human heart is a strange vessel. Love and hatred can exist side by side.
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So what are those balloons for? In case you fall off your hoverboard?' -- Tally to Peris
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And it was pretty clear that no prince was showing up, or at least that he was really late.
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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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But it's always taking a risk, when you ... kiss someone new.
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What you do, the way you think, makes you beautiful.
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Typographical laziness was slowly destroying our culture, according to Lexa and her pals. Inexactitude was death.
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the parties are no fun until everyone gets drunk
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Money's the same, whoever gives it to you. That was the point of money, after all: crisp and clean or wrinkled or disintegrated into quarters - a dollar was always worth a hundred cents.
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your not alone, Tally. Don't pretend you are
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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 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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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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