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

Maureen Johnson

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Maureen Johnson
Age: 51
Born: 1973
Born: February 16
Author
Novelist
Writer
Philadelphia
Pennsylvania
Things
Knew
Knowing
Didn
Beautiful
Two
Care
Different
Something
Caring

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I feel warm and reassured, I whispered. He's like Santa.
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Irony is the word I forget the meaning of immediately after I look it up, but I kind of feel like I live in a constant state of it.
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I am a mass of contradictions.
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I could envision it all to clearly: Stuart or Debbie finding the dented door off its hinges, lying in the snow. She came in, ravaged the boy, stole plastic bags, and ripped off the door in her escape, the police would say in the APB. Probably making her way to bust her parents out of jail.
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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.
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Some nutter's gone and pulled a Jack the Ripper.
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This kind of thing always amazed Ginny--people who just walked away from institutions. People who left school when they didn't see the point. Aunt Peg had done that. Ginny knew she never would. That either made her someone who worked hard and finished things, or someone who didn't have the guts to break away from the pack. Maybe both.
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Dr. Everest, got up and gave us a little pep talk. Mostly it boiled down to the fact that it was autumn, and everyone was back, and while that was a great thing, people better not get cocky or misbehave or he'd personally kill us all. He didn't actually say those words, but that was the subtext.
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I envisioned huge piles of the Elf Hotel flying off the belt, taking down everybody in sight. I had seen pictures of that Elf Hotel - it had sharp candy-cane spires that could easily impale someone. If anyone was ever going to be killed by an Elf Hotel, it would be my parents.
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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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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.
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I have no phobias. Phobias are irrational. My fears are rational and CAREFULLY CULTIVATED, like roses.
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Proximity doesn't breed familiarity.
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And if we get caught, I will claim I made you go. At gunpoint. I am American. People will assume I'm armed.
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The kids I talk to are readers, and the craziest, the most dedicated readers you will ever see.
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You're...a demon hunter?' 'It's not as exciting as it sounds,' he said. 'There is a surprising amount of paperwork involved.
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I sleep better knowing that a naked cork-eater is not sneaking around at night, stealing my underwear.
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Hey! Jack the Wanker! Over here! I want your autograph!
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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.
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One question, I said. Did you tell me all that because you think I'm going to die? No, he said. It's because you're doing something brave, and I felt I should too. I'll take that as a yes, I said.
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