Ring around the rosie. A pocket full of posie. Ashes ashes, we all fall down. Some people say that this poem is about the Black Death, the fourteenth-century plague that killed 100-million people... Sadly, though, most experts think this is… — Scott Westerfeld Copy Share Image
“She thought of the orchids spreading across the plains below, choking the life out of the other plants, out of the soil itself, selfish… — Scott Westerfeld Copy Share Image
The Rusty Ruins were the remains of an old city, a hulking reminder of back when there'd been way too many people, and everyone… — Scott Westerfeld Copy Share Image
High school wasn't a trial by fire or some ordeal that had to be survived. It was all a big joke. You just had… — Scott Westerfeld Copy Share Image
And you've actually watched it yourself?' I asked. 'Willingly?' Sure. I had to see it, you know? Besides we should be safe. Only one… — Scott Westerfeld Copy Share Image
“Sure, zombies can “be a metaphor.” They can represent the oppressed, as in Land of the Dead, or humanity’s feral nature, as in 28… — Scott Westerfeld Copy Share Image
“You don't look very happy." Tally tried to smile. David had shared his biggest secret with her; she should tell him hers. But she… — Scott Westerfeld Copy Share Image
“Weird, even for one of us. Or maybe she's worse." "Worse how?" "Normal.” — Scott Westerfeld Copy Share Image
Tally smiled. At least she was causing trouble to the end. "I'm Tally Youngblood," she said. "make me pretty. — Scott Westerfeld Copy Share Image
Out here, you find out that the city fools you about how things really work. — Scott Westerfeld Copy Share Image
