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I 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.

Bret Easton Ellis

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.
BRET EASTON ELLIS

Men Moving Odds
I think in life, there are certain choices you make that are timeless and universal, and don’t necessarily have anything to do with the particulars of a certain decade.
BRET EASTON ELLIS

Choices Decade Necessarily Thinking Timeless
Disappear Here. The syringe fills with blood. You’re a beautiful boy and that’s all that matters. Wonder if he’s for sale. People are afraid to merge. To merge.
BRET EASTON ELLIS

Beautiful Bloodsign Boys Merge
I’m not a big believer in disciplined writers. What does discipline mean? The writer who forces himself to sit down and write for seven hours every day might be wasting those seven hours if he’s not in the mood and doesn’t feel the juice. I don’t think discipline equals creativity.
BRET EASTON ELLIS

Creativity Mean Writing
My mask of sanity was a victim of impending slippage. This was the bone season for me and I needed a vacation.
BRET EASTON ELLIS

Mask Sanity Slippage Vacation
I was simply imitating reality, a rough resemblance of a human being, with only a dim corner of my mind functioning
BRET EASTON ELLIS

Corner Functioning Imitating Resemblemnce Simply
I don’t know why I write what I write.
BRET EASTON ELLIS

Knows Write Writing
I tried to make meat loaf out of the girl but it becomes too frustrating a task and instead I spend the afternoon smearing her meat all over the walls, chewing on strips of skin I ripped from her body
BRET EASTON ELLIS

Frustrating Girl Over Skins Wall
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.
BRET EASTON ELLIS

Night Running Thinking
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.
BRET EASTON ELLIS

Anywhere Littles Matter
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

Control Directors Money
We buy balloons, we let them go.
BRET EASTON ELLIS

Balloons Buy Go Let
I want no one to escape, but even after admitting this there is no catharsis, my punishment continues to elude me and I gain no deeper knowledge of myself; no new knowledge can be extracted from my telling. This confession has meant nothing.
BRET EASTON ELLIS

Elude Gain Knoweledge Punishment
I move on in search of a less dorky target. Though if he’d been a mime, odds are he’d already be dead.
BRET EASTON ELLIS

Already Dead Less Mime Move Search
Why was I holding on to something that would never be mine? But isn’t that what people do?
BRET EASTON ELLIS

Holding Mines People
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.
BRET EASTON ELLIS

Book Thinking Writing

I 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.

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I 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.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

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