I think we’ve all lost some kind of feeling.
BRET EASTON ELLISI 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.)
More Bret Easton Ellis Quotes
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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 -
I tried to make meat loaf out of the girl but it becomes too frustrating a task and instead I spend the afternoon smearing her meat all over the walls, chewing on strips of skin I ripped from her body
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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Why was I holding on to something that would never be mine? But isn’t that what people do?
BRET EASTON ELLIS -
Rock ‘n’ roll. Deal with it.
BRET EASTON ELLIS -
Fear never shows up and the party ends early.
BRET EASTON ELLIS -
I like the idea of a writer being haunted by his own creation, especially if the writer resents the way the character defines him.
BRET EASTON ELLIS -
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 -
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.
BRET EASTON ELLIS -
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.
BRET EASTON ELLIS -
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 -
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 -
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.
BRET EASTON ELLIS -
My pain is constant and sharp, and I do not hope for a better world for anyone.
BRET EASTON ELLIS -
Disappear Here. The syringe fills with blood. You’re a beautiful boy and that’s all that matters. Wonder if he’s for sale. People are afraid to merge. To merge.
BRET EASTON ELLIS