I really believe that readers are smart and sophisticated enough to realize that the author is not the narrator of his novels.
BRET EASTON ELLISI really believe that readers are smart and sophisticated enough to realize that the author is not the narrator of his novels.
BRET EASTON ELLISI’ve never written an autobiographical novel in my life. I’ve never touched upon my life. I’ve never written a single scene that I can say took place.
BRET EASTON ELLISWhen I’m writing a book, I’m not thinking, “Oh, this would be a great movie.” This would be a very interesting book. And I think the books are things that cannot really be adapted into another medium.
BRET EASTON ELLISI 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 ELLISI learned that you really don’t have any control as a writer. Waah, waah, waah. Big deal. 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 ELLISHello, Halberstam,” Owen says, walking by. Hello, Owen,” I say, admiring the way he’s styled and slicked back his hair, with a part so even and sharp it…
BRET EASTON ELLISNo one is drawn to writing about being happy or feelings of joy.
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.
BRET EASTON ELLISFear never shows up and the party ends early.
BRET EASTON ELLISOn the seals’ tank a plaque warns: COINS CAN KILL–IF SWALLOWED, COINS CAN LODGE IN AN ANIMAL’S STOMACH AND CAUSE ULCERS, INFECTIONS AND DEATH. DO NOT THROW COINS IN THE POOL.
BRET EASTON ELLISHip,” 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 ELLISRock ‘n’ roll. Deal with it.
BRET EASTON ELLISAt 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 ELLISWe buy balloons, we let them go.
BRET EASTON ELLISI 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 ELLISThe seeds of love have taken hold and if we won’t burn together, I’ll burn alone.
BRET EASTON ELLIS