I Think Basically Most Men Are Misogynistic.

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.

There Are No More Barriers To Cross. All I Have In Common With The Uncontrollable And The Insane, The Vicious And The Evil, All The Mayhem I Have Caused And My Utter Indifference Toward It I Have Now Surpassed. My Pain Is Constant And Sharp And I Do Not Hope For A Better World For Anyone, In Fact I Want My Pain To Be Inflicted On Others. I Want No One To Escape, But Even After Admitting This There Is No Catharsis, My Punishment Continues To Elude Me And I Gain No Deeper Knowledge Of Myself; No New Knowledge Can Be Extracted From My Telling. This Confession Has Meant Nothing.

My Pain Is Constant And Sharp, And I Do Not Hope For A Better World For Anyone.

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.

...there Is An Idea Of A Patrick Bateman, Some Kind Of Abstraction, But There Is No Real Me, Only An Entity, Something Illusory, And Though I Can Hide My Cold Gaze And You Can Shake My Hand And Feel Flesh Gripping Yours And Maybe You Can Even Sense Our Lifestyles Are Probably Comparable: I Simply Am Not There.