After a while you learn that everything stops.
BRET EASTON ELLISPeople are afraid to merge.
More Bret Easton Ellis Quotes
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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 -
I 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.
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We buy balloons, we let them go.
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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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And it struck me then, that I liked Sean because he looked, well, slutty. A boy who had been around. A boy who couldn’t remember if he was Catholic or not.
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Regardless of the business aspect of things, is there a reason that there isn’t a female Hitchcock or a female Scorsese or a female Spielberg? I don’t know. I think it’s a medium that really is built for the male gaze and for a male sensibility.
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It’s as if her mind is having a hard time communicating with her mouth, as if she is searching for a rational analysis of who I am, which is, of course, an impossibility: there… is… no… key.
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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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Exploitation is a harsh word, I know that, but on a certain level, to me that is the central Hollywood story.
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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 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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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.
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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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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.
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People can get accustomed to anything, right? Habit does things to people.
BRET EASTON ELLIS