Denis Johnson Quotes

• Todos estos bichos raros, y yo mejorando un poco cada día en medio de ellos. Nunca había sabido, ni siquiera imaginado, que podría haber un lugar para gente como nosotros.

  Denis Johnson

  People, Littles, Might

  Denis Johnson (2009). “Jesus' Son: Stories”, p.91, Macmillan

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• I make the road. I draw the map. Nothing just happens to me...I'm the one happening.

  Denis Johnson

  Maps, Draws, Happenings

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• Sometimes what I wouldn't give to have us sitting in a bar again at 9:00 a.m. telling lies to one another, far from God.

  Denis Johnson

  Lying, Giving, Bars

  Denis Johnson (2009). “Jesus' Son: Stories”, p.25, Macmillan

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• El primer beso le hizo caer en picado por un agujero y le hizo salir a un mundo en el que creía que podía desenvolverse, como si hubiera estado tirando con fuerza en la dirección equivocada y ahora se hubiera dado la vuelta yendo río abajo.

  Denis Johnson

  Kissing, First Kiss, World

  Denis Johnson (2012). “Train Dreams”, p.27, Granta Books

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• What could be lonelier than trying to communicate?

  Denis Johnson

  Trying, Communicate

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• This life is but the childhood of our immortality.

  Denis Johnson

  Childhood, Life Is, Immortality

  Denis Johnson (2016). “Tree of Smoke”, p.317, Pan Macmillan

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• When he was dry, he believed it was alcohol he needed, but when he had a few drinks in him, he knew it was something else, possibly a woman; and when he had it all -- cash, booze, and a wife -- he couldn't be distracted from the great emptiness that was always falling through him and never hit the ground.

  Denis Johnson

  Fall, Wife, Alcohol

  Denis Johnson (1983). “Angels”, Knopf

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• This wasn't the sea of the inexorable horizon and smashing waves, not the sea of distance and violence, but the sea of the etenally leveling patience and wetness of water. Whether it comes to you in a storm or in a cup, it owns you--we are more water than dust. It is our origin and our destination.

  Denis Johnson

  Distance, Dust, Sea

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• Después de la película llovía, una lluvia ligera y constante. Neón despiadado en las calles mojadas como caramelos rotos.

  Denis Johnson

  Rain, Light, Neon

  Denis Johnson (2010). “Nobody Move: A Novel”, p.25, Macmillan

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• I really enjoy writing novels. Its like the ocean. You can just build a boat and take off.

  Denis Johnson

  Ocean, Writing, Boat

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• How could I do it, how could a person go that low? And I understand your question, to which I reply, Are you kidding? That's nothing. I'd been much lower than that. And I expected to see myself do worse.

  Denis Johnson

  Lows, Expected, Persons

  Denis Johnson (2009). “Jesus' Son: Stories”, p.83, Macmillan

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• Me siento muy privilegiado al oír cómo alguien solía ir por ahí atracando a gente y robando coches, y ahora está rehaciendo su vida... Me encantan las historias. Las historias del mundo caído, nos emocionan. Eso es lo interesante.

  Denis Johnson

  Running, People, Interesting

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• Write the unpublishable.. .and then publish it.

  Denis Johnson

  Escribir, Publicar

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• Down the hall came the wife. She was glorious, burning. She didn't know yet that her husband was dead. We knew. That's what gave her such power over us. The doctor took her into a room with a desk at the end of the hall, and from under the closed door a slab of brilliance radiated as if, by some stupendous process, diamonds were being incinerated in there. What a pair of lungs! She shrieked as I imagined an eagle would shriek. It felt wonderful to be alive to hear it! I've gone looking for that feeling everywhere.

  Denis Johnson

  Husband, Doctors, Doors

  "'What a Pair of Lungs!': Denis Johnson’s Ecstatic American Voice" by Philip Gourevitch, www.newyorker.com. May 27, 2017.

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• We’d torn open our chests and shown our cowardly hearts, and you can never stay friends after something like that

  Denis Johnson

  Heart, Torn, Chests

  Denis Johnson (2009). “Jesus' Son: Stories”, p.11, Macmillan

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• And with each step my heart broke for the person I would never find, the person who'd love me. And then I would remember I had a wife at home who loved me, or later that my wife had left me and I was terrirfied, or again later that I had a beautiful alcoholic girlfriend who would make me happy forever. But every time I entered the place there were veiled faces promising everything and then clarifying quickly into the dull, the usual, looking up at me and making the same mistake.

  Denis Johnson

  Beautiful, Girlfriend, Mistake

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• We can’t always tell the whole story about ourselves.

  Denis Johnson

  Stories, Whole

  Denis Johnson (2016). “Tree of Smoke”, p.290, Pan Macmillan

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• Talk into my bullet hole. Tell me I'm fine.

  Denis Johnson

  Bullets, Holes, Fine

  "Jesus' Son". www.imdb.com. 1999.

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• English words are like prisms. Empty, nothing inside, and still they make rainbows.

  Denis Johnson

  Rainbow, English Words, Empty

  Denis Johnson (2003). “Already Dead: A California Gothic”, p.27, Harper Collins

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• I'd been staying at the Holiday Inn with my girlfriend, honestly the most beautiful woman I'd ever known, for three days under a phony name, shooting heroin. We made love in the bed, ate steaks at the restaurant, shot up in the john, puked, cried, accused one another, begged of one another, forgave, promised, and carried one another to heaven.

  Denis Johnson

  Beautiful, Girlfriend, Holiday

  "Jesus' Son". Book by Denis Johnson, December 1992.

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• She had nothing in this world but her two hands and her crazy love for Jesus, who seemed, for his part, never to have heard of her.

  Denis Johnson

  Jesus, Crazy, Hands

  Denis Johnson (2016). “Tree of Smoke”, p.112, Pan Macmillan

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• 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.

  Denis Johnson

  Sueño, Real, Significado

  Denis Johnson (2009). “Jesus' Son: Stories”, p.9, Macmillan

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• Cuando discutíamos por mi vigésimo cuarto cumpleaños, salió de la cocina, volvió con una pistola y me disparó cinco veces desde el otro lado de la mesa. Pero falló. No era mi vida lo que buscaba. Era algo más. Quería comerse mi corazón y perderse en el desierto con lo que había hecho, quería caer de rodillas y parir de él, quería herirme como sólo un hijo puede ser herido por su madre.

  Denis Johnson

  Mother, Hurt, Jesus

  Denis Johnson (2009). “Jesus' Son: Stories”, p.84, Macmillan

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• Everybody’s got a mean side. Just don’t feed it till it grows.

  Denis Johnson

  Mean, Sides, Grows

  Denis Johnson (2016). “Tree of Smoke”, p.105, Pan Macmillan

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• There was a part of her she hadn’t yet allowed to be born because it was too beautiful for this place

  Denis Johnson

  Beautiful, Born

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