Quotes from Bret Easton Ellis

Sheen's supposed propensity for violence against women hadn't hurt his popularity with female fans either, and if anyone wants to know what that means, then that's a story for maybe fifty other books.

rare post-gay film in which no one is tortured about being gay, no one gets bullied, no one is ashamed, no one has tearfully passionate coming-out scenes, and there's no gay suffering at all—there's a murder, but it's over money. And isn't this, in our new acceptance of gay lives and equality, whether black or white, the more progressive view?

the sweet and smiley and sexually unthreatening elf with liberal values and a positive attitude is supposed to transform everyone into noble gay-loving protectors—again, as long as the gay in question toes the party line, isn't messy or too sexual, negative or angry and offers no contradictions and is certainly not conservative or Christian.

When did people start identifying so relentlessly with victims, and when did the victim's worldview become the lens through which we began to look at everything?

Clinton's advisers Robby Mook and John Podesta had said when Trump called the Electoral College "a rigged thing" and "a fraud," suggesting that maybe only the popular vote should matter.

The Left had become a rage machine, burning itself up: a melting blue bubble dissolving in on itself.

All we've really done is to set ourselves up—to be sold to, branded, targeted, data-mined. But this is the logical endgame of the democratization of culture and the dreaded cult of inclusivity, which insists everybody has to live under the same umbrella of rules and regulations: a mandate that dictates how all of us should express ourselves and behave.

We'll slide down the surface of things...

Where are we going? I asked I don't know he said. Just driving. 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.

Had she ever made promises to a faithless reflection in the mirror? Had she ever cried because she hated someone so much? Had she ever craved betrayal to the point where she pushed the crudest fantasies into reality, coming up with sequences that she and nobody else could read, moving the game as you play it? Could she locate the moment she went dead inside? Does she remember the year it took to become that way? The fades, the dissolves, the rewritten scenes, all the things you wipe away...

Sometimes, when listening to friends of mine, I'd stare at them while a tiny voice in the back of my head started sighing, You are the biggest fucking baby I've ever fucking heard in my entire fucking life and please you've got to fucking calm the fuck down—I get it, I get it, you don't like fucking Trump but for fuck's sake enough already for fuck's sake.

I sat there silently, staring at him, and immediately ordered a third martini, one more than I usually drink.

Actors depend on their likability, and their attractiveness, because they want people to watch them, to be drawn to them, to desire them. Because of this, actors are, by their very nature, liars.

most of us now lead lives on social media that are more performance based than we ever could have imagined even a decade ago, and thanks to this burgeoning cult of likability, in a sense, we've all become actors.

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.

The greatest crime being perpetrated in this new world is that of stamping out passion and silencing the individual.

Moral of the story?

Whenever I heard certain people losing their shit about Trump my first reaction was always, You need to be sedated, you need to see a shrink, you need to stop letting the "bad man" help you in the process of victimizing your whole life.

Siento que me estoy moviendo hacia delante a la vez que alejándome de algo, y todo es posible (American Psycho, Bret Easton Ellis)

Yeah, we all have to leave," he says. "You said that already.

There's a man sitting at the table next to ours whose eyes are closed very tightly. The girl he's sitting with doesn't seem to mind and picks at a salat. When the man finally opens his eyes, I'm relieved for some reason.

En cuanto me di cuenta de que estaba completamente solo comprendí, sólo entonces, que tenía problemas graves. Mi actitud nostálgica con respecto a la fama y las drogas -el placer de comadecerme a mí mismo- se había transformado en tristeza y el futuro ya no me parecía ni remotamente plausible. Solamente una cosa parecía correr hacia mí: una negrura, una tumba, el final

Or maybe when you're roiling in childish rage, the first thing you lose is judgment, and then comes common sense. And finally you lose your mind and along with that, your freedom.

Bill Clinton was being celebrated that evening, which I immediately thought was bizarre since Clinton signed DOMA, the Defense of Marriage Act, and implemented Don't Ask, Don't Tell but then I remembered that GLAAD had also honored Brett Ratner the year after he'd (innocuously, I thought) jokingly told the moderator during a Q&A after a screening of one of his movies that "rehearsal is for fags" and was forced to repent