We buy balloons, we let them go.
BRET EASTON ELLISI’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.
More Bret Easton Ellis Quotes
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Writing fiction is an act of imagination and fantasizing, and it’s not relating in prose what you’ve been doing for the last two or three years.
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Why was I holding on to something that would never be mine? But isn’t that what people do?
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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 -
There’s no grand plan. All I know is that I write the books I want to write. All that other stuff is meaningless to me.
BRET EASTON ELLIS -
I don’t want to care. If I care about things, it’ll just be worse, it’ll just be another thing to worry about. It’s less painful if I don’t care.
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And as the elevator descents, passing the second floor, and the first floor, going even father down, I realize that the money doesn’t matter. That all that does is that I want to see the worst
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I have to return some videotapes
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That’s how I became the damaged party boy who wandered through the wreckage, blood streaming from his nose, asking questions that never required answers.
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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 -
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 -
It’s like my characters, all my men are Dad and me in a mess; all my female characters are smart and hopeful, like Mom just trying to make the best of things.
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I don’t know why I write what I write.
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.
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Fear never shows up and the party ends early.
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Her taste in music haunted my memory and I had to stop at Tower Records on the Upper West Side to buy ninety dollars’ worth of rap CDs but, as expected, I’m at a loss: […] voices uttering ugly words like digit, pudding, chunk.
BRET EASTON ELLIS







