All that glitters is not hovery.
All that glitters is not hovery.
That's how things were out here in the wild, she was learning. Dangerous or beautiful. Or both.
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 early summer sky was the color of cat vomit.
Her only way home was to betray her friend.
The flowers were so beautiful, so delicate and unthreatening, but they choked everything around them.
However stupid the choice seemed, Shay had made it with her eyes open, and had respected Tally's choice to stay.
The lie took form as she spoke, pulling on as many strands of truth as it could reach.
I spilled more times than a glass of milk on a roller coaster.
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.
In a world of extreme beauty, anyone normal is ugly.
The very idea of making shoes by hand boggled her mind.
It's not the traveling that takes courage Tally. I've done much longer trips on my own. It's leaving home.
We're not freaks, Tally. We're normal. We may not be gorgeous, but at least we're not hyped-up Barbie dolls.
Maybe they didn't want you to realize that every civilization has its weakness. There's always one thing we depend on. And if someone takes it away all that's left is some story in a history class.
What you do, the way you think, makes you beautiful.
Nature, at least, didn't need an operation to be beautiful. It just was.
When she awoke, the world was on fire.
Or maybe when they do the operation- when they grind and stretch your bones to the right shape, peel off your face and rub all your skin away, and stick in plastic cheekbones so you look like everybody else- maybe after going through all that you just aren't very interesting anymore. -Shay, Uglies
Yes. What you do, the way you think, makes you beautiful.
Out here, you find out that the city fools you about how things really work.
Your father always suspected that being pretty-minded is simply the natural state for most people. They want to be vapid and lazy and vain-Maddy glanced at Tally-and selfish. It only takes a twist to lock in that part of their personalities. He always thought that some people could think their way out of it.
Perhaps the logical conclusion of everyone looking the same is everyone thinking the same.
Your personality - the real you inside - was the price of beauty.
Shay sometimes talked in a mysterious way, like she was quoting the lyrics of some band no one else listened to.
She thought of the orchids spreading across the plains below, choking the life out of other plants, out of the soil itself, selfish and unstoppable. Tally Youngblood was a weed. And, unlike the orchids, she wasn't even a pretty one.
She wasn't here to gawk. She was an infiltrator, a sneak, an ugly. And she had a mission.
Tally wondered if you could talk somebody out of their brain damage.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories