Maureen Johnson Quotes

Writing is one of the few careers for which you essentially train yourself, the other two major ones being juggling and pickpocketing.

Fear can’t hurt you,” she said. “When it washes over you, give it no power. It’s a snake with no venom. Remember that. That knowledge can save you.

I may have been a complete lunatic, but I was a complete lunatic with manners.

Debbie had to get up and slice me a thick piece of cake before she could answer. And I do mean thick. Harry Potter volume seven thick. I could have knocked out a burglar with this piece of cake. Once I tasted it, though, it seemed just the right size.

One person's crazy is another person's sane, I guess.

It's always easier to say good-bye when you know it's just a prelude to hello.

Claim whatever you want. Say you only want a happy family or a successful career or a big house. I say: no, that's not what you want. You'll settle for those things, but you really want a monkey that does your evil bidding. Pullman is a genius just for this.

You can never visit the same place twice. Each time, it's a different story. By the very act of coming back, you wipe out what came before.

And if we get caught, I will claim I made you go. At gunpoint. I am American. People will assume I'm armed.

You have to take things as they are, not how you hear they're supposed to be.

Tired, but not the kind of tired that sleep fixes.

Where her books were, she was. Get the books right and the rest will follow. Now she could address the rest of the room.

I have no phobias. Phobias are irrational. My fears are rational and CAREFULLY CULTIVATED, like roses.

Keep calm and carry on. Also, stay in and hide because the Ripper is coming.

I'm Keith," he said, "and you're . . . clearly mad, but what's your name?

The funny thing about stop signs is that they're also start signs.

Salt. Wound. Together at last.

Stuart must have sensed my despair from the way I began lightly banging my forehead on the table.

I knew it was beautiful, but knowing something is beautiful and caring about it are two very different things, and I didn't care.

There is nothing about a bad situation that fourteen hyper cheerleaders can't worsen.

Of course I worry too much,” Nate said. “But I’m usually right. The people who worry are always right. That’s how that works.

I decided to deflect her attitude by giving a long, Southern answer. I come from people who know how to draw things out. Annoy a Southerner, and we will drain away the moments of your life with our slow, detailed replies until you are nothing but a husk of your former self and that much closer to death.

Welsh is an actual, currently used language and our next-door neighbors Angela and Gaenor spoke it. It sounds like Wizard.

All the money, all the power—none of it compares to a good book. A book gives you everything. It gives you a window into other souls, other worlds. The world is a door. Books are the key.

The English play hockey in any weather. Thunder, lightening, plague of locusts...nothing can stop the hockey. Do not fight the hockey, for the hockey will win.

When you have enough power and money, you can dictate the meanings of words.

We study there a lot because... what other choice does society give us, right? It's Starbucks or death, sometimes.

Guilt isn't always a rational thing, Clio realized. Guilt is a weight that will crush you whether you deserve it or not.

I am a mass of contradictions.

It's always awkward when someone doesn't realize you're joking and devotes thought time to what you've said. Double that when the person is wearing tinfoil.

I like you because you were mad. And you're pretty. And pretty sane for a mad person.

Tell me what you want, what you really, really want," he said. "Braiiinnnnssss," we said in unison.

WORTH IT and perfect are different things. No one’s perfect, yet in romance, everyone becomes WORTH IT. And that’s the trick.

Just then, my phone started ringing. The ring must have been damaged by the water as well, so now it had a high, keening note - kind of the sound I imagine a mermaid might make if you punched her in the face.

This pool is a triumph of imagination. That's how you win at life, Gin. You have to imagine your way through. Never say something can't be done. There's always a solution, even if it's weird.

Every time you try to flirt with her, a puppy dies.

There is nothing so serious as a game.

10/30/38 Where do you look for someone who's never really there? Always on a staircase but never on a stair

Go see old virgins! Now ask a strange boy out, you shy, Retarded thing!

I can sleep like a champion. I once slept through a smoke alarm going off. For three hours. In my bedroom.

What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked. It was a good question.

She was standing in the airport of Copenhagen, staring at a doorway, trying to figure out if it was (a) a bathroom and (b) what kind of bathroom it was. The door merely said H. Was she an H? Was H "hers"? It could just as easily be "his". Or "Helicopter Room: Not a Bathroom at All

It was like the entire world was colluding to make me feel insane, and it was doing a really good job.

Don't get stabbed. It makes everything awkward.

It was clearly one of those mornings when I was particularly American.

And what else is she?" Jerome asked. Jazza didn't offer any reply so I chimed in with, "A bitchweasel?" "A bitchweasel!" Jazza's face lit up. "She's a bitchweasel! I love my new roommate.

Walk really, really carefully. It's not complicated, but if you mess up, you'll die, so pay attention.

Nothing was quite like it was supposed to be.

The whole "weak in the knees" thing,which she always thought was just some idiotic expression back from the golden age of idiotic expressions,was real. -Suite Scarlett

There is no normal. I've never met a normal person. The concept is flawed. It implies that there is only one way people are supposed to be, and that can't possible be true. Human experience is far too varied.

Why Paris? Paris needs no reason. Paris is its own reason.

I followed your footsteps," he said, in answer to the unspoken question. "Snow makes it easy." I had been tracked, like a bear. "Sorry to make you go to all that trouble," I said. "I didn't have to go that far, really. You're about three streets over. You just kept going in loops." A really inept bear.

Were you playing with Stuart?" she asked. The question was loaded. I was a filthy, filthy woman, and even the five-year-old knew it.

So much of anxiety was anxiety about having anxiety.

Look! A riddle! Time for fun! Should we use a rope or gun? Knives are sharp and gleam so pretty Poison’s slow, which is a pity Fire is festive, drowning’s slow Hanging’s a ropy way to go A broken head, a nasty fall A car colliding with a wall Bombs make a very jolly noise Such ways to punish naughty boys! What shall we use? We can’t decide. Just like you cannot run or hide. Ha ha. Truly, Devious

Proximity doesn't breed familiarity.

The wonderful thing about reality is that it is highly flexible. One minute, all is doom; the next, everything is abloom with possibility.

Maureen clapped her hands together. "Oh," she said in her elfin little voice. "It's pretty." "Pretty?" Simon looked quickly at the hunched shape on top of the concrete block. "Maureen, what the hell-

You could wear the same outfit every single day and no guy - who isn't gay - will notice.

I guess life is full of maybes.

It could have been like a fairy tale. But fairy tales aren't real. Things don't work like that. There's a price for everything.

Albert Ellingham said knowledge was his religion and libraries were his church, so he built a church.

because talent alone doesn't make an artist

Rule #1: You may bring only what fits in your backpack. Don’t try to fake it with a purse or a carry-on. Rule #2: You may not bring guidebooks, phrase books, or any kind of foreign language aid. And no journals. Rule #3: You cannot bring extra money or credit/debit cards, travelers’ checks, etc. I’ll take care of all that. Rule #4: No electronic crutches. This means no laptop, no cell phone, no music, and no camera. You can’t call home or communicate with people in the U.S. by Internet or telephone. Postcards and letters are acceptable and encouraged. That’s all you need to know for now.

Who runs a combination cat shelter and hostel?" Keith asked. "With the cat shelter being the primary function? Only people who want to kill you with an axe and then put you in the garden and build a shed on you, that's who.

Even though she had been warned, she tripped over the bike. She probably tripped because she'd been warned and was telling herself not to trip over the bike. She did that sometimes. It was often easier not to know what obstacles were in the way.

Anything is better than doing what I'm supposed to be doing.

It was like she had been punched in the gut. Stevie said stuff like that all the time and was told she was wrong. David said it once and got a nod and a compliment. Oh, the magic of dudes. If only they bottled it.

You have to try. Trying is the first step to whatever comes next.

Braiiinnnnssss," we said in unison. "It's both sad and incredibly impressive that you were all ready with that one.

We're going to die," Keith said, the moment he was gone. "This man is a serial killer. We're going to die, and he's going to bury us in his garden and build a shed on us.

Anxiety does not ask your permission. Anxiety does not come when expected. It's very rude. It barges in at the strangest moments, stopping all activity, focusing everything on itself It sucks the air our of your lungs and scrambles the world.

i miss you so much it's giving me a pain in my pancreas.

Maybe you've never fallen into a frozen stream. Here's what happens. 1. It is cold. So cold that the Department of Temperature Acknowledgment and Regulation in you brain gets the readings and says, "I can't deal with this. I'm out of here." It puts up the OUT TO LUNCH sign and passes all responsibility to the... 2. Department of Pain and the Processing Thereof, which gets all this gobbledygook from the temperature department that it can't understand. "This is so not our job," it says. So it just starts hitting random buttons, filling you with strange and unpleasant sensations, and calls the... 3. Office of Confusion and Panic, where there is always someone ready to hop on the phone the moment it rings. This office is at least willing to take some action. The Office of Confusion and Panic loves hitting buttons.

Do you ever sing in the car?" "Generally not. But I am driving a police car." "I think people would like a singing policeman. Makes life seem more like a musical. Like Foot-tastic." "You can talk for a long time about nothing." "I certainly can, you charming man!

I had one class in the morning, the mysteriously named "Further Maths". It was two hours long and so deeply frightening that I think I went into a trance.

Stevie woke the next morning, which was a good start. When things are bad, give yourself a point for everything.

My moose,” she said in a low voice. “I finally got it. The universe paid me in moose.

Maybe this was what Aunt Peg meant all along - returning was a weird thing. You can never visit the same place twice. Each time, it's a different story. By the very act of coming back, you wipe our what came before.

Sometimes artist like to catch themselves looking out, let the world see them for once. It's a signature. This one is a very bold one. But this is also a witnessing. We want to remember, and we want to be remembered. That's why we paint.

It took a lot of women like that, a lot of women who said "I'm not going to do what you expect me to do, because you have no idea what I'm capable of. I'm going to get dirty and use tools and live the way I want" to move the world forward.

Kissing is something that makes up for a lot of other crap you have to put up with...It can be confusing and weird and awkward, but sometimes it just makes you melt and forget everything that is going on.

Why are Americans so fascinated by Ireland?” Keith asked... “you all think you’re Irish. What’s the appeal? Do you like the accent more? Is it all the magical rocks? Oh, look, a lep­rechaun...

These houses had been plunked down with an alarming randomness -- unevenly spaced, on crooked lines, like whoever had designed the place had said, "We'll just follow this cat, and wherever he sits down, we'll build something.

I'm done. I'm going to go to bed and read important books about theater." "It would would be easier if you just said porn," Scarlett said. "No idea what you're talking about. But knock first if you need me.

Life is always going to be a series of ouch-making moments, and the question was, was I going to go all fetal position, or was I going to woman up? I went into fetal position on the bed to think about this. Fetal position turned out to be very comfortable.

I looked at the stained-glass image of the lamb in the window above me, but that only reminded me that lambs are famous for being led to slaughter, or sometimes hanging out with lions in ill-advised relationships.

Oh my God!" said one of the Ambers. "Is this not the worst trip ever? Did you see the snow?" She was a sharp one, this Amber. What would she notice next? The train? The moon? The hilarious vagaries of human existence? Her own head?

I annoy people," he said. "Believe me. I'm aware. It's an effective way to communicate if you don't have any other options. If you can't get in through the door, throw a rock through the window. And I think maybe you're the same way. - David, to Stevie

Anxiety and excitement are cousins; they can be mistaken for each other at points. They have many features in common—the bubbling, carbonated feel of the emotion, the speed, the wide eyes and racing heart. But where excitement tends to take you up, into the higher, brighter levels of feeling, anxiety pulls you down, making you feel like you have to grip the earth to keep from sliding off as it turns.

It was fine," I said stiffly. "We played Mouse Trap." "Is that what they're calling it these days?" she asked, throwing me a terrible grin. "I have to go give Rachel a quick bath. Feel free to make yourself some cocoa or whatever you like!" She stopped short of adding "...future child-bride of my only son.

I remember how, at first, I had felt the tension in his lips, as if he was trying to make a barrier between us - then they had relaxed, parted slightly. And that's when I had known he wanted to kiss me, wanted to give in. That little parting of the lips, the little sigh that came out... I would hear that sigh forever. That little, little sound when the whole world seemed to open up.

Stuart's a wizard with those kinds of things," she said. "What kinds of things?" "Oh, he can find anything online." Debbie was obviously one of those parents who still hadn't quite grasped that using the Internet was not exactly wizardry, and that we could all find anything online. I didn't say this, because you don't want people to feel that they've missed something really obvious, even when they have.

One thing," I said, when we had broken apart and the swirling feeling in my head subsided. "Maybe...don't tell your mom too much about this. I think she has ideas." "What?" he asked, all innocence, as he put an arm around my shoulders and led me back toward his house. "Don't your parents cheer and stare when you make out with someone? Is that weird where you come from? I guess they don't get to see it much, though. From jail, I mean." "Shut it, Weintraub. If I knock you down in the snow, these kids will swarm and eat you.

People would say that it's impossible to have a private pool in the city, unless you were some sort of rich mogul and had it on the roof of your penthouse or something. But it's not illegal to have a really clean dumpster, and if you want to fill it with water, and if you want to get in it... well, that's your prerogative. People always say they can't do things, that they're impossible. They just haven't been creative enough. This pool is a triumph of imagination. That's how you win at life, Gin. You have to imagine your way through. Never say something can't be done. There's always a solution, even if it's weird.

When she emerged, Keith was watching the tiny round window of the under-the-counter washing machine. "Put your clothes in for a wash," he said. "They were disgusting." Ginny always thought that the only way of getting clothes clean was by drowning them in scalding water and then whipping them around in a violent centrifugal motion that caused the entire washing machine to vibrate and the floor to shake. You beat them clean. You made them suffer. This machine used about half a cup of water and was about as violent as a toaster, plus it stopped every few minutes, as if it were exhausted from the effort of turning itself. Sluff, sluff, sluff sluff. Rest. Rest. Rest. Click. Sluff, sluff, sluff, sluff. Rest. Rest. Rest. "Who thought to put a window on a washing machine?" Keith asked. "Does anyone just sit and watch their wash?" You mean, besides us?" "Well," he said, "yeah. Is there any coffee?

Did they know that Arthur Conan Doyle went on to investigate mysteries in his real life and absolved a man for a crime for which he has been convicted? Did they know how Agatha Christie brilliantly staged her own disappearance in order to exact an elegant revenge on a cheating husband? They probably did not. And no one was going to discount Stevie Bell, who had gotten into this school on the wings of her interest in the Ellingham case, and who had been a bystander at a death that was now looking more and more suspicious.

A lot of teenagers write to me and say "I want to write a book. I want to get published." And those are two very different things. For the first one, that you want to write a book, I think is an excellent idea and you should totally do that because teenagers who want to write, you should be writing. You should be writing all the time like a maniac. Don't worry about the second bit, just yet because A. You need a lot of practice. You need to do it for, I'm not kidding, years. And then once you are published, it's a business. It's a job. Plus, every author I know was that teenager who sat in their room and read and wrote. That's who becomes an author, but that's what you have to do for a while before you become an author.

Idea meets execution. Feeling becomes action. I don't know why people find this idea so hard to get. I mean, you can throw any two people together, it doesn't mean they'll fall in love. Everyone knows this. No one quite understands how it works. It's just those people, where they are in their lives, how circumstance throws them together. Sure, it's happened before, but never quite in that way. Maybe they seem to come together all wrong. Maybe they've loved others. Maybe they don't always do right by each other...but it's still there, the love. The event. And no one would dare criticize it just because it's common, it's a little asymmetrical, and anyone can do it. It is unique. It is theirs. It is beautiful. They have made something that has been made a million times before and has also never existed before that moment.

The hand that rested on my shoulder rubbed it a bit, comfortingly. Then it gave my shoulder a little squeeze. I leaned into him. Maybe it was that I was broken. Maybe it was just that I was out of my mind. But it occurred to me that I was going to kiss him. The thought just arrived, certain knowledge, delivered from some greater, more knowledgeable place. I was going to kiss him. Stephen would not want to kiss me. He would back up in horror. And yet, I was still going to do it. I reached over, and put my hand against his chest, then I moved closer. I could feel just the very tips of the gentle stubble on his cheek brushing against my skin. "Rory," he said. But it was a quiet protest, and it went nowhere. For the first few seconds, he didn't move-he accepted the kiss like you might accept a spoonful of medicine. Then I heard it, a sigh, like he had finally set down a heavy weight. I was pretty sure we were both kind of terrified, but I was completely sure that we were both doing this. We kissed slowly, very deliberately, coming together and then pulling apart and looking at each other. Then each kiss got longer, and then it didn't stop. Stephen put his hand just under the edge of my shirt, holding it on the spot where the scar was. Sometimes the skin around the scar got cold-now it was warm. Now it was alive. "So Thorpe says that-Seriously?" Callum was in the doorway. Stephen mumbled what I think was a very obscene word right against my mouth. "You realize I now owe Boo five pounds?" Callum said. "Boo! I owe you five pounds!