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 was incredibly stupid. And ugly.

What you do, the way you think, makes you beautiful.

Shay sometimes talked in a mysterious way, like she was quoting the lyrics of some band no one else listened to.

The lie took form as she spoke, pulling on as many strands of truth as it could reach.

Perhaps the logical conclusion of everyone looking the same is everyone thinking the same.

When she awoke, the world was on fire.

I spilled more times than a glass of milk on a roller coaster.

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.

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

We're not freaks, Tally. We're normal. We may not be gorgeous, but at least we're not hyped-up Barbie dolls.

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.

It is my belief, Watson, founded upon my experience, that the lowest and vilest alleys in London do not present a more dreadful record of sin than does the smiling and beautiful countryside.

Every time I pass for a bad time I think of you and I forget everything. Do not think I’m exaggerating, that’s because I love you.

I pray if I ever find out I have only about three minutes to live it's during a basketball game, because then I'll have, what, 10, 12 years to live?

Innocent and infinite are the pleasures of observation.

I grew up wanting to be a musician, but my parents were sure I would starve to death. So, they put me in physics and chemistry. That eventually blew up, and I got into radio.

I think the only remotely interesting drug was acid. I had a slightly peculiar attitude towards it I think. Just about everything about hippydom I hated.

Anyone can sympathize with the sufferings of a friend, but it requires a very fine nature to sympathize with a friend's success.

Every woman is a rebel, and usually in wild revolt against herself.

Fashion postulates an achrony, a time which does not exist; here the past is shameful and the present is constantly "eaten up" by the Fashion being heralded.

This I know; the spirit of Man cannot be stopped.