What else is there to do in college except drink beer or slit one’s wrists?
BRET EASTON ELLISI feel like I’m not smart enough to answer the questions I’m asked.
More Bret Easton Ellis Quotes
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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 -
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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What does that mean know me, know me, nobody ever knows anybody else, ever! You will never know me.
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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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…if you’re alone nothing bad can happen to you.
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It’s like my characters, all my men are Dad and me in a mess; all my female characters are smart and hopeful, like Mom just trying to make the best of things.
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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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The seeds of love have taken hold and if we won’t burn together, I’ll burn alone.
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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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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 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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I like the idea of a writer being haunted by his own creation, especially if the writer resents the way the character defines him.
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Everyone I know who is successful has issues with their father, regardless of whether it was sports or business or entertainment.
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The Smiths are singing and someone says “Turn that gay angst music off.
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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