Denis Johnson
Denis Johnson
Denis Hale Johnsonis an American writer best known for his short story collection Jesus' Sonand his novel Tree of Smoke, which won the National Book Award for Fiction. He also writes plays, poetry and non-fiction...
NationalityGerman
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth1 July 1949
CountryGermany
begin children dawn drop neighbors radios screams soon start time wind
As soon as the first drop of dawn dilutes the blackness, the neighbors begin their unbelievable racket, first the roosters, then the radios, then the live accompaniment to the radios - and then it's time to wind up the little children and start their screams and tears.
afraid false laughter love playing silences universe
I was afraid to make love to her without the conversations and laughter from the false universe playing in our ears, because I didn't want to get to know her very well, and didn't want to be bridging any silences with our eyes.
When I'm writing for Esquire, my conscious thought is, I'm not writing for American Scholar.
accuracy concerned lighter plays prose thrill truth trying
In the plays - that's where I go crazy. But my prose has a much lighter touch; it's not trying to thrill with language, just to be more truthful. I'm not concerned with the accuracy of anything. We don't get to the truth of anything with facts.
came hit job met money ran seven work
I'd met a woman and I got married, but the money ran out right away. I hadn't had a job for seven months, and it just came over me that I was never going to work again. It hit me.
writing want humans
In my writing, I want to be laid bare as a human being.
hate teaching two
I hate two kinds of sentences you hear in workshops, the ones beginning "I really like ..." and the ones beginning "My problem with this poem is ..."
trying communicate
What could be lonelier than trying to communicate?
beautiful born
There was a part of her she hadn’t yet allowed to be born because it was too beautiful for this place
heart torn chests
We’d torn open our chests and shown our cowardly hearts, and you can never stay friends after something like that
heart steps broke
With each step my heart broke for the person I would never find, the person who'd love me.
war tree might
It was only when you left it alone that a tree might treat you as a friend. After the blade bit in, you had yourself a war.
heart soul mind
Before this moment I'd lived as a mind. Body, heart, soul, intellect, so we care ourselves into parts. But the whole of us, what can it be?
mean sides grows
Everybody’s got a mean side. Just don’t feed it till it grows.