Daniel Johnston Quotes

I never met a girl I didn't meet

I try to point my finger,/ but the wind keeps// spinning me around

She says it's like you have Leonard Cohen's touch with lyrics coupled with Daniel Johnston's sincerity coupled with a Rimbaudian aura of tragedy but with Nick Cave teeth.

Epic. Primordial. Gritty. Incandescent. These are just a few of the adjectives the fat girl feeds you along with her Banana-Rama bread, her peanut butter and raspberry triangles, her rocky road. She says it’s like you have Leonard Cohen’s touch with lyrics coupled with Daniel Johnston’s sincerity coupled with a Rimbaudian aura of tragedy yet with Nick Cave teeth. She doesn’t tell you not to quit your day job, like Some People. Instead, she counsels never to give up, her gaze wet, dark, and adoring as a dog’s.

I was and still am a big Dylan fan and admirer, so I asked Bob Johnston if there was any way he could let me play on just one session. Sessions in Nashville are scheduled so you can fit four into a day: 10: 00 a.m., 2: 00 p.m., 6: 00 p.m., and 10: 00 p.m. As it happened, the guitar player they had scheduled for the 6: 00 p.m. session couldn’t make it and wouldn’t show up until the 10: 00 p.m. session, so Bob fit me in for 6: 00 p.m. I was the hungriest musician in the studio. I hung on every note that Bob Dylan sang and played on his guitar and did my best to interpret his music with feeling and passion. When the session was over, I was packing up my guitars to head to my club gig, and Bob Dylan asked Bob Johnston, “Where is Charlie going?” Bob told him I was leaving and that he had another guitar player coming in. Then Bob Dylan said nine little words that would affect my life from that moment on. He said, “I don’t want another guitar player. I want him.” And there it was. After all the put downs, condescension, and snide remarks, after all the times I’d driven to the hill above my house and shook my fist at Nashville and said, “You will not beat me.” After all that rejection, none other than the legendary Bob Dylan was saying that I might be worth something after all. It’s bits of encouragement like that that keep you going. Once in a while something just lights you up and you say, “Yeah, I can do this.

«Hay personas que prefieren decir “Sí”, y hay otras que prefieren decir “No” —escribe Keith Johnstone—. Las que dicen “Sí” obtienen la recompensa de las aventuras que viven. Las que dicen “No” tienen su recompensa en la seguridad que obtienen.»

asked. “The issue,” Daniels said, taking a sip and looking implacably at Sam, “is whether Richards needed killin’.

The fact is that your client killed that man. If all we were seeking was truth, that would be the end of the story. But we’re seeking justice. And from that standpoint, the issue is very different.” Daniels finished his drink in a long pull and smacked his lips. “Don’t get distracted by the how, the why, or the when, Sam—those are merely the facts. Do what you can to put some small chinks in the State’s factual armor, but don’t worry too much about it, because the facts are not the issue.

In 1986, Senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan sponsored a law banning the use of tax-free bonds to finance stadiums, exactly the financing being used by the Yankees and the Mets. So how did Steinbrenner and the Mets owners get around that law? How did they manage to benefit from triple tax-free municipal bonds that add to the burdens of federal, state, and city taxpayers? First, the Yankees and the Mets will not pay rent on their new stadiums, which the city will own. If they paid rent, the Moynihan law would prohibit the sale of tax-exempt bonds to finance the stadiums. But since the stadium bonds must be paid for, where will the money come from?

guess I’m starting to think twice about it, is all. I need a client I can believe in.” “Oh, stop!” Daniels spread his arms like he was declaring a runner safe. “That’s first year CrimLaw shit, there. Defendants—ninety-five percent of ’em, anyway—are guilty as hell. I know it; you know it; hell, the defendants damned sure know it. The only people who don’t know it are the people sitting on their couches from eight to nine every night watching television. We’re out for justice here, not truth. You forget that?” “Maybe I haven’t forgotten it as much as I’m getting tired of it.” “Naw, you’re just having a little pretrial anxiety, is all. We all get it.” “I’ve been in tougher spots than this.

Word’s gotten out and that’s one reason why they are having a hell of a time finding young lawyers who want to take this on.” He took another sip and raised a forefinger. Sam could tell he was in for a lecture. “Young people don’t want what rural areas have to offer. What they want is a bougie suburban lifestyle—just close enough to the city to claim some knowledge of culture and diversity, but not close enough to have to put up with the traffic, smog, and shit-covered streets,” Daniels said. Sam smirked but didn’t interrupt, which Daniels took as a sign to continue. “Nope,” he said, shaking his head. “Most young lawyers want to be law clerks or environmental lawyers—whatever the hell that is—or patent attorneys or anything where they can call themselves an attorney and not have to go into a courtroom, think on their feet, and face a live adversary and the possibility of losing. That’s why when we get a guy like you—a guy with the ability to do what needs to be done on a client’s behalf—we ride you hard and put you away wet.

Thank you, I think. I just think maybe I’m burning out with criminal law,” Sam said. “I’m thinking maybe I could do some wills, trusts and estates—stuff like that.” “Good work. I figure you got maybe four or five years of that, then that area will be totally consumed by out-of-state law firms, artificial intelligence, and online idiots,” Daniels said.

Some people still believe the pursuit of truth is the endgame,” Daniels began. “Not so. Our system is built upon the pursuit of justice—a very different thing. If all we wanted was truth, facts would be all that mattered. If that were the case, the fact that your client killed her husband would be all that mattered. Game over.” He drank from the glass, smacked his lips, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hands. “The genius of our system is that in seeking justice, the facts are only a part of the equation. You’ve got the law.