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
happy-times voice people
Sometimes I heard voices muttering in my head, and a lot of the time the world seemed to smolder around its edges. but I was in a little better physical shape every day, I was getting my looks back, and my spirits were rising, and this was all in all a happy time for me. All these weirdos, and me getting a little better right in the midst of them. I had never known, never even imagined for a heartbeat, that there might be a place for people like us.
people littles might
All these weirdos, and me getting a little better every day right in the midst of them. I had never known, never even imagined for a heartbeat, that there might be a place for people like us.
writing want humans
In my writing, I want to be laid bare as a human being.
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.
stories whole
We can’t always tell the whole story about ourselves.
dream real mean
And therefore I looked down into the great pity of a person’s life on this earth. I don’t mean that we all end up dead, that’s not the great pity. I mean that he couldn’t tell me what he was dreaming, and I couldn’t tell him what was real.
brave scared belief
I have the belief in boldness. What I generally lack is the boldness itself. Because boldness doesn't feel bold. It feels scared not brave.
rain light neon
After the film it was raining, a light steady rain. Ruthless neon on the wet streets like busted candy.