Bret Easton Ellis Quotes

No one ever likes the right person.

Is evil something you are? Or is it something you do?

Not being able to find meaning can be just as powerful as finding meaning.

I keep feeling that people are becoming less human and more animalistic. They seem to think less and feel less so that everyone is operating on a very primitive level. I wonder what you and I will see in our lifetimes. It seems so hopeless yet we must keep on trying ... I guess we can't escape being a product of the times, can we?

The better you look, the more you see.

Eventually everyone has to hit the dark side of life - Someone doesn't like you, someone doesn't like your work, someone doesn't love you back... people die. What we have is a generation who are super-confident and super-positive about things, but when the least bit of darkness enters their lives, they're paralyzed.

But this was what happened when you didn't want to visit and confront the past: the past starts visiting and confronting you.

...if you're alone nothing bad can happen to you.

Life is like a typographical error: we're constantly writing and rewriting things over each other.

After a while you learn that everything stops.

You learn to move on without the people you love.

I like the idea of a writer being haunted by his own creation, especially if the writer resents the way the character defines him.

what's right? If you want something, you have the right to take it. If you want to do something, you have the right to do it.

Why was I holding on to something that would never be mine? But isn't that what people do?

What does that mean know me, know me, nobody ever knows anybody else, ever! You will never know me.

Disintegration---I'm taking it in stride.

My pain is constant and sharp, and I do not hope for a better world for anyone.

No one will ever know anyone. We just have to deal with each other. You're not ever gonna know me.

I think a lot of snowflakes are alike...and I think a lot of people are alike too.

I have all the characteristics of a human being: blood, flesh, skin, hair; but not a single, clear, identifiable emotion, except for greed and disgust. Something horrible is happening inside of me and I don't know why. My nightly bloodlust has overflown into my days. I feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy. I think my mask of sanity is about to slip.

People can get accustomed to anything, right? Habit does things to people.

We buy balloons, we let them go.

Our lives are not all interconnected. That theory is a crock. Some people truly do not need to be here.

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

I needed something--the distraction of another life--to alleviate fear.