A Quote by Maureen Johnson

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.
It was in D.C., and I couldn't believe how they were just three guys, but they sounded like six guys. It was amazing. I got spoiled, because that was my first concert. I wish in retrospect I had seen someone like Air Supply, and then my expectations could keep rising. Nothing against Air Supply. "I'm All Out Of Love" is still a classic.
I still love making music. And I still love performing for my fans. I'd like to thank them for sticking with me through thick and thin.
We still haven't gotten the message; we still don't see that it's bad. And then we copy everything about their [Roman Empire] structure. I mean Paul Bremer was the proconsul of Iraq. We're still using ancient terminology, we still have Senators and we have an Emperor, almost.
When I got the call from [Hugh] Hefner... I thought, "Wow - at 40, they still want me?" And I thought it's almost an inspiration - like a "you go, girl" moment. I feel empowered that you can be married and and have three children and still be sexy and confident and look great.
I only have two kinds of dreams: the bad and the terrible. Bad dreams I can cope with. They're just nightmares, and the end eventually. I wake up. The terrible dreams are the good dreams. In my terrible dreams, everything is fine. I am still with the company. I still look like me. None of the last five years ever happened. Sometimes I'm married. Once I even had kids. I even knew their names. Everything's wonderful and normal and fine. And then I wake up, and I'm still me. And I'm still here. And that is truly terrible.
Right now one in three teenagers meets the medical criteria for addiction, which is scary. I'm so driven because when I walked into rehab, I was like, "Am I still drunk? Did the guys give me the wrong address? Am I at a summer camp?" And it kills them. Deaths attributed to drugs and alcohol have overtaken all other emergency-room deaths.
Love is all around you like the air and is the very breath of your being. But you cannot know it, feel its unfeeling touch, until you pause in your busy-ness, are still and poised and empty of your wanting and desiring. When at rest the air is easily offended and will flee even from the fanning of a leaf, as love flees from the first thought. But when the air or love moves of its own accord it is a hurricane that drives all before it.
It is scary to write - period - for me, but once you get past the idea that it's scary to write, I still can only be who I am. As a writer, my job, to me, is to expose myself - to really sort of dig in and find out who I am and then put it on the page.
Vic nudged my elbow with his. "You and me are still friends, right? You guys get a joint custody in the divorce. Generous visitations rights." "Divorce?" Despite myself, I laughed. Only Vic could call the aftermath of a bad first date a divorce. We hadn't exactly been friends beforehand, so "still" was an exaggeration, but it would've been mean to point that out. Besides, I liked Vic. "We're still friends." "Excellent. The weirdos have to stick together around here." "Are you calling me a weirdo?" "Highest honor I can bestow.
I was still very hopeful that much work lay ahead of me. Perhaps because much of what I had worked on or thought about had not yet been put into writing, I felt I still had things in reserve. Given this optimistic nature, I feel this way even now when I am past sixty.
I can choose to grateful when I am criticized, even when my heart still responds in bitterness. I can choose to speak about goodness and beauty, even when my inner eye still looks for someone to accuse or something to call ugly.
It shocks me, the rumors people start: that I have the title because of my boyfriend. If that was the case, I would have gotten the title when I came back years ago and still had the title. He has nothing to do with it.
I have not changed; I am still the same girl I was fifty years ago and the same young woman I was in the seventies. I still lust for life, I am still ferociously independent, I still crave justice, and I fall madly in love easily.
There was no air; only the dead, still night fired by the dog days of August. Not a breath. I had to suck in the same air I exhaled, cupping it in my hands before it escaped. I felt it, in and out, less each time…until it was so thin it slipped through my fingers forever. I mean, forever.
I'm 43, and I really don't take care of my looks. It's kind of a bad thing for an actress, but at the same time, I can't go there. I like clothes because clothes are fun. I'm still a girl, I mean, a woman, and I still love shoes. But the aging and the face...and how do you stay young and skinny and all that? I feel like if I focus on those problems too much, I'm going to lose myself in them, and it's not very interesting.
I'm going to get myself one of those, um, movable computers - what do you call them... ? Laptops! I am bad. I still call my radio a wireless.
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