I don’t really need to pretend, because it’s who I am, an emotional vampire. I’ve just come to expect it. Vampires are real. That I was born this way. That I feed off of other people’s real emotions. Search for this night’s prey. Who will it be?
BRET EASTON ELLISWe buy balloons, we let them go.
More Bret Easton Ellis Quotes
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After a while you learn that everything stops.
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Unless you’re the director on the movie, or putting up the money for the movie, you really don’t have a lot of control.
BRET EASTON ELLIS -
We buy balloons, we let them go.
BRET EASTON ELLIS -
I kept staring into the blackness of the woods, drawn into the darkness as I always had been. I suddenly realized how alone I was. (But this is how you travel, the wind whispered back, this is how you’ve always lived.)
BRET EASTON ELLIS -
But this road doesn’t go anywhere,” I told him. “That doesn’t matter.” “What does?” I asked, after a little while. “Just that we’re on it, dude,” he said.
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I don’t know why I write what I write.
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Look how black the sky is, the writer said. I made it that way.
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So what do I do? Toss a handful of change into the tank when none of the zookeepers are watching. It’s not the seals I hate——it’s the audience’s enjoyment of them that bothers me.
BRET EASTON ELLIS -
I locked in on the smug feeling of superiority that married couples give off and that permeated the air – the shared assumptions, the sweet and contented apathy, it all lingered everywhere – despite the absence in the room of anyone single at which to aim this.
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I could stay living in this city if they just installed Blaupunkts in the cabs.
BRET EASTON ELLIS -
What does that mean know me, know me, nobody ever knows anybody else, ever! You will never know me.
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Hip,” I murmur, remembering last night, how I lost it completely in a stall at Nell’s—my mouth foaming, all I could think about were insects, lots of insects, and running at pigeons, foaming at the mouth and running at pigeons.
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And it struck me then, that I liked Sean because he looked, well, slutty. A boy who had been around. A boy who couldn’t remember if he was Catholic or not.
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Rock ‘n’ roll. Deal with it.
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It’s as if her mind is having a hard time communicating with her mouth, as if she is searching for a rational analysis of who I am, which is, of course, an impossibility: there… is… no… key.
BRET EASTON ELLIS






