You don’t market-research a novel; you really are writing it for yourself. It’s a hobby, in many ways. The problem becomes what you do when you’re confronted by criticism. You just don’t listen to it.
BRET EASTON ELLISI stare into a thin, web-like crack above the urinal’s handle and think to myself that if I were to disappear into that crack, say somehow miniaturize and slip into it, the odds are good that no one would notice I was gone.
More Bret Easton Ellis Quotes
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If I want to write a movie, I’ll write a screenplay, but if I have an idea for a book, it’s something that I think can only be done novelistically.
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And as things fell apart, nobody paid much attention
BRET EASTON ELLIS -
Greed is good. Sex is easy. Youth is forever.
BRET EASTON ELLIS -
I like the idea of a writer being haunted by his own creation, especially if the writer resents the way the character defines him.
BRET EASTON ELLIS -
You learn to move on without the people you love.
BRET EASTON ELLIS -
I want to moan and writhe with you and I want to go up to you and kiss your mouth and pull you to me and say “I love you I love you I love you” while stripping. I want you so bad it stings.
BRET EASTON ELLIS -
…if you’re alone nothing bad can happen to you.
BRET EASTON ELLIS -
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 -
People just… disappear,” he says. “The Earth just opens up and swallows people,” I say, some what sadly, checking my Rolex. “Eerie.” Kimball yawns, stretching. “Really eerie.” “Ominous.” I nod my agreement. “It’s just”- he sights, exasperated- “futile.
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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 -
Everyone I know who is successful has issues with their father, regardless of whether it was sports or business or entertainment.
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At Columbus Circle, a juggler wearing a trench cloak and top hat, who is usually at this location afternoons and who calls himself Stretch Man, performs in front of a small, uninterested crowd; though I smell prey, and he seems worthy of my wrath.
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What else is there to do in college except drink beer or slit one’s wrists?
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I think we’ve all lost some kind of feeling.
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She sits before me, sullen but hopeful, characterless, about to dissolve into tears. I squeeze her hand back, moved, no, touched by her ignorance of evil. She has one more test to pass. Do you own a briefcase?” I ask her, swallowing.
BRET EASTON ELLIS