Scott Westerfeld: Herring

“With everything so perfect, reality seemed somehow fragile, as if the slightest interruption could imperil her pretty future… all of it felt as tenuous as a soap bubble, shivering and empty.”

“At least one thing was consistent about her life: It just kept on getting more complicated.”

“Sometimes it felt like her life was a series of falls from ever-greater heights.”

“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.”

“The very idea of making shoes by hand boggled her mind.”

“Now, young lady, I suppose you're here for a work assignment."
Work?" Tally said.
They both looked down at her puzzled expression, and Shay burst into laughter.”

“I expect that you must receive top marks at school, young lady."
Madeleine smiled as she stirred her tea. "There are always rewards for those who state the obvious frequently and with conviction.”

“She carried a knife inside of herself now, one that was always cutting her. She could feel it every time she swallowed, every time her thoughts strayed from the splendor of the wild.”

“However stupid the choice seemed, Shay had made it with her eyes open, and had respected Tally's choice to stay.”

“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?”

“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!”