On 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 ELLISI think we’ve all lost some kind of feeling.
More Bret Easton Ellis Quotes
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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
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Look how black the sky is, the writer said. I made it that way.
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And as things fell apart, nobody paid much attention
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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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But this was what happened when you didn’t want to visit and confront the past: the past starts visiting and confronting you.
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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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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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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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You don’t market-research a novel; you really are writing it for yourself. It’s a hobby, in many ways. The problem becomes what you do when you’re confronted by criticism. You just don’t listen to it.
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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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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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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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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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My pain is constant and sharp, and I do not hope for a better world for anyone.
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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.
BRET EASTON ELLIS