American Psycho

American Psycho quotes

56 total quotes (ID: 36)

Multiple Characters
Patrick Bateman


I live in the American Gardens Building on W. 81st Street on the 11th floor. My name is Patrick Bateman. I'm 27 years old. I believe in taking care of myself and a balanced diet and rigorous exercise routine. In the morning, if my face is a little puffy, I'll put on an ice pack while doing stomach crunches. I can do a thousand now. After I remove the ice pack I use a deep pore cleanser lotion. In the shower I use a water activated gel cleanser, then a honey almond body scrub, and on the face an exfoliating gel scrub. Then I apply an herb-mint facial mask which I leave on for 10 minutes while I prepare the rest of my routine. I always use an after shave lotion with little or no alcohol, because alcohol dries your face out and makes you look older. Then moisturizer, then an anti-aging eye balm followed by a final moisturizing protective lotion.


I saw the acclaimed New York musical, "Oh Africa, Brave Africa". It was.. a laugh riot.

I'm leaving. I've assessed the situation, and I'm going.

Not quite blonde, are we? More of a dirty blonde.

Paul Allen has mistaken me for this dickhead Marcus Halberstram. It seems logical because Marcus also works at P&P and in fact does the same exact thing I do and he also has a penchant for Valentino suits and Oliver Peoples glasses. Marcus and I even go to the same barber, although I have a slightly better haircut.

Pumpkin? Pumpkin, you're dating an asshole. Pumpkin, you're dating the biggest dick-weed in New York. Pumpkin...you're dating a tumbling, tumbling dick-weed.

That's a very fine Chardonnay you're not drinking. I want you to clean your vagina. No. From behind. Get on your knees.

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.

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 you and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable: I simply am not there.

You are a ****ing ugly bitch, I want to stab you to death, and then play around with your blood.

You're dating Louis and he's in Arizona. You're ****ing me and we don't have plans tonight. What could you possibly be doing?