I feel like I’m not smart enough to answer the questions I’m asked.
BRET EASTON ELLISA great numb feeling washes over me as I let go of the past and look forward to the future. Pretend to be a vampire.
More Bret Easton Ellis Quotes
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People can get accustomed to anything, right? Habit does things to people.
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Writing a novel that works is an extremely difficult thing to do. It requires a level of skill and dedication that always surprises me.
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And,” Price adds, smiling, “if another round of Bellinis comes within a twenty-foot radius of our table we are going to set the maitre d’ on fire. So you know, warn him.
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Do you wear a diaphragm everywhere you go?’ I want to scream, but stop myself because the idea really excites me.
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I could stay living in this city if they just installed Blaupunkts in the cabs.
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One part of me wants to take her out and talk to her and be real nice and sweet and treat her right.”‘ I stop finish my J&B in one swallow. ‘What does the other part of him think?’ Hamlin asks tentatively. ‘What her head would look like on a stick…’
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Greed is good. Sex is easy. Youth is forever.
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And though the coldness I have always felt leaves me, the numbness doesn’t and probably never will. this relationship will probably lead to nothing… this didn’t change anything. I imagine her smelling clean, like tea.
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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.
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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.
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I really believe that readers are smart and sophisticated enough to realize that the author is not the narrator of his novels.
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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.
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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.
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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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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