A Quote by Scott Westerfeld

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. — © Scott Westerfeld
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.
I went to karate classes where it was basically a line-up of hulking man, hulking man, small nine-year-old girl, hulking man, hulking man.
It was a very aged, ghostly place; the church had been built many hundreds of years ago, and had once had a convent or monastery attached; for arches in ruins, remains of oriel windows, and fragments of blackened walls, were yet standing-, while other portions of the old building, which had crumbled away and fallen down, were mingled with the churchyard earth and overgrown with grass, as if they too claimed a burying-place and sought to mix their ashes with the dust of men.
It's a sci-fi show on network television, and everybody knows that it's an amazing feat that we've been on for so many years. The fans, the press and everyone has been so incredibly kind and so incredibly supportive that we feel like it's a success, in any way, shape or form. It's an expensive canvas.
it's not called the Rusty Ruins because some guy called Rusty found them.
You could look out the window today, see the sky raining fire, and say that it has all been for nothing, everything we've ever done, because now we've lost. But folk were born and lived and knew friendship and music in this city, ugly as it is, and all across this land that we fought for. Some grew old, and others were less lucky. Many bore children and raised them, and had the pleasure of making them, too, and we gave them that for as long as we could. Who has ever done more, my friend?
What happened in my personal life affected my career too. I am not perfect and I have made a lot of mistakes. Being an entrepreneur is incredibly lonely. There were many hurdles along the way. From starting out, to making it, and almost losing it, to fighting back, to nearly losing it all again. There have been extreme highs and extreme lows.
There were only two kinds of people in our town. ?The stupid and the stuck- ?The ones who are bound to stay or too dumb to go. Everyone else finds a way out.
Blood Dazzler is Patricia Smith's impassioned lyric chronicle of a beloved city in peril, a city whose people were left to die before us all, a people who were the heart of our country and lifeblood of our culture. After rising water, winds and abandonment, after our failure and neglect, comes this symphony of utterance from the ruins: many-voiced, poignant, sorrowful and fierce. This is poetry taking the full measure of its task.
My soul is lost, my friend, tell me how do I begin again? My city's in ruins, my city's in ruins.
I always laugh when I listen to my old stuff. I was just trying way too much back then. Doing too many harmonies and too many runs and all the crazy stuff. Rapping all funny and animated.
[People in 1600s] didn't have many books. They would have been staggered by the personal libraries we have today, because books back then were incredibly expensive.
When a war breaks out, people say: "It's too stupid; it can't last long." But though a war may well be "too stupid," that doesn't prevent its lasting. Stupidity has a knack of getting its way; as we should see if we were not always so much wrapped up in ourselves.
I've always found it funny in life when you meet people who are incredibly stupid and incredibly confident at the same time. Actually, there is nothing funnier. I mean, Donald Trump is a perfect example: he's essentially a seven-year-old on a podium.
Acting was not for me. They were saying, you are too beautiful, you are too ugly, you are too plump, too tall, too short. You cannot believe the way you are judged.
When I was a young boy, during the aftermath of World War II, Germany was broken and in ruins. Many people were hungry, sick, and dying. I remember well the humanitarian shipments of food and clothing that came from the Church in Salt Lake City.
It's too late. It was too late by the time I arrived in London to turn your notebook into a dove; there were too many people already involved. Anything either of us does has an effect on everyone here, on every patron who walks through those gates. Hundreds if not thousands of people. All flies in a spiderweb that was spun when I was six years old and now I can barely move for fear of losing someone else.
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