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Money is for doing things, my love. Don't sit on it like a hen sits on an egg. It doesn't hatch. I should know. I've made enough of it.

Maureen Johnson

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Maureen Johnson
Age: 51
Born: 1973
Born: February 16
Author
Novelist
Writer
Philadelphia
Pennsylvania
Money
Enough
Made
Things
Hatch
Love
Hens
Like
Sits
Eggs
Doesn

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Spicy food and I have a close relationship—an obsessive one, in fact. If it’s spicy, I want it. I want to sweat and shake and go half blind from the searing pain . . . which, now that I put it that way, seems really suggestive. But spicy stuff is addictive. That’s a known fact of science.
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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.
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I realize Jubilee is a bit of a stripper name. You probably think I have heard the call of the pole.
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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
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A pause while my mother made high-pitched sisterly devotions of gratitude.
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She firmly held the theory that everyone gets at least one very stupid superpower.
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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.
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I read two mysteries a day when I was a kid. All of Agatha Christie, all of 'Sherlock Holmes.' I've seen every single British detective show ever made.
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WORTH IT and perfect are different things. No one’s perfect, yet in romance, everyone becomes WORTH IT. And that’s the trick.
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They weren't pressed together as closely as normal, but his shoulder bumped hers, then remained there. It was very subtle, and possibly even accidental, but it was enough.
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I still have a whopping bad case of what you call scag magnetism. I thought i had gotten rid of it there, but it looks like scary guys still materialize from thin air in my presence. They are drawn to me. I am the North Pole, and they are the explorers of love.
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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!
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What tinfoil? he asked.
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People always say they can't do things, that they're impossible. They just haven't been creative enough.
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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.
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I've heard people on panels say, 'You must have a Web site. You need to tweet. Repeat the title of your book constantly,' and I just want to say, 'Shut up. Everything you're saying is wrong.' People will know instantly if your only motivation for tweeting is to sell books.
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Well, what now? You have no job. I have no job. Wanna play Jenga?
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Did you hear? he asked. They found another body around nine this morning. It's the Ripper, definitely. Good morning, I replied. Morning. Listen to this. The second victim.
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One person's crazy is another person's sane, I guess.
Maureen Johnson
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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.
Maureen Johnson