No one is drawn to writing about being happy or feelings of joy.
BRET EASTON ELLISI 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.
More Bret Easton Ellis Quotes
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How could she ever understand that there isn’t any way could be disappointed since I no longer find anything worth looking forward to?
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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.
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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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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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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.
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I come to a red light, tempted to go through it, then stop once I see a billboard sign that I don’t remember seeing and I look up at it.
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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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Yes. Yes I am. I am a completely demented misogynist.
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I have to return some videotapes
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The seeds of love have taken hold and if we won’t burn together, I’ll burn alone.
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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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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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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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I’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.
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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.
BRET EASTON ELLIS