Patrick Bateman Quotes: The Enduring Allure of American Psycho’s Dark Protagonist
Few fictional characters have left as indelible a mark on pop culture as Patrick Bateman, the chilling antihero of Bret Easton Ellis’s American Psycho. Since the novel’s publication in 1991 and its subsequent film adaptation starring Christian Bale in 2000, Bateman has become a symbol of both the excesses and the emptiness of 1980s yuppie culture. His dual existence- an impeccably groomed Wall Street investment banker by day, a remorseless serial killer by night- offers a disturbing yet fascinating lens through which to examine themes of identity, consumerism, and alienation.
Bateman’s world is one of surface-level perfection: designer suits, exclusive restaurants, and a relentless pursuit of status. Yet beneath this polished exterior lies a void, a character who famously claims, “There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman; some abstraction. But there is no real me”54. This chilling self-assessment has resonated with generations of readers and viewers, especially as internet culture has transformed Bateman into a meme and a “sigma male” icon2. His quotes, ranging from the disturbingly banal to the philosophically profound, capture the contradictions at the heart of his character: the obsession with image, the lack of empathy, and the struggle to find meaning in a world defined by material excess.
The enduring popularity of Patrick Bateman quotes reflects more than just a fascination with violence or shock value. Instead, these lines serve as a mirror to our own anxieties about authenticity, ambition, and the masks we wear. Whether used ironically or in earnest, Bateman’s words continue to spark debate, inspire memes, and challenge audiences to confront uncomfortable truths about modern life. This article will explore over 200 of the most memorable Patrick Bateman quotes, followed by a deep dive Q&A into the character’s legacy and cultural significance.
200+ Patrick Bateman Quotes
There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman; some kind of abstraction. But there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory.
I have to return some videotapes.
I like to dissect girls. Did you know I’m utterly insane?
I’m into, uh, well, murders and executions, mostly.
My pain is constant and sharp, and I do not hope for a better world for anyone.
Try getting a reservation at Dorsia now, you fucking stupid bastard!
I always use an aftershave lotion with little or no alcohol because alcohol dries your face out and makes you look older.
In the morning, if my face is a little puffy, I’ll put on an ice pack while doing my stomach crunches-I can do a thousand now.
Because I want to fit in.
Well, you can always be thinner… look better.
There is a moment of sheer panic when I realize that Paul’s apartment overlooks the park… and is obviously more expensive than mine.
Oh my God. It even has a watermark.
If you don’t shut your fucking mouth, I will kill you.
Ask me a question.
Feed me a stray cat.
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 overflowed into my days. I feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy. I think my mask of sanity is about to slip.
I want to stab you to death and play around with your blood.
Not the face! You bitch! Not the fucking face, you piece of bitch trash.
Hey, I’m a child of divorce, gimme a break!
Pumpkin, you’re dating the biggest dickweed in New York.
I know my behavior can be… erratic sometimes.
I’m leaving. I’ve assessed the situation, and I’m going.
Disintegration-I’m taking it in stride.
All it comes down to is this: I feel like shit but look great.
I felt lethal, on the verge of frenzy. My nightly bloodlust overflowed into my days.
Do you like Huey Lewis and the News?
I’ve forgotten who I had lunch with earlier, and even more important, where.
I think a lot of snowflakes are alike… and I think a lot of people are alike too.
The past isn’t real. It’s just a dream. Don’t mention the past.
Why not? Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t get married.
I feel I’m moving toward as well as away from something, and anything is possible.
A curtain of stars, miles of them, are scattered, glowing, across the sky and their multitude humbles me.
I simply am not there.
I had all the characteristics of a human being-flesh, blood, skin, hair-but my depersonalization was so intense, had gone so deep, that my normal ability to feel compassion had been eradicated.
Is evil something you are? Or is it something you do?
No. Just cool it with the anti-Semitic remarks.
I tried to make meat loaf out of the girl but it becomes too frustrating a task.
I want no one to escape.
But even after admitting this-and I have, countless times, in just about every act I’ve committed-and coming face-to-face with these truths, there is no catharsis.
This confession has meant nothing.
I do not hope for a better world for anyone.
Thousands of roses and lots of chocolate truffles. Godiva, and oysters in the half-shell.
We’ll get Annie Leibovitz. And we’ll have to get someone to videotape. Patrick, we should do it.
No, I can’t take the time off work.
Your father practically owns the company. You can do anything you like, silly.
I don’t want to talk about it.
You hate that job anyway. I don’t see why you just don’t quit.
I think my mask of sanity is about to slip.
I have all the characteristics of a human being-blood, flesh, skin, hair-but not a single, clear, identifiable emotion.
I simply am not there.
I want to fit in.
I like to dissect girls.
Did you know I’m utterly insane?
I’m on the verge of frenzy.
I feel lethal.
My mask of sanity is about to slip.
I have to return some videotapes.
I’m into, uh, well, murders and executions, mostly.
My pain is constant and sharp.
I do not hope for a better world for anyone.
I want my pain to be inflicted on others.
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 conscience, my pity, my hopes disappeared a long time ago.
If you get back tomorrow, I may show up at Harry’s Bar, so you know, keep your eyes open.
She shrugs and nods after I say something about forms of anxiety.
It’s as if her mind is having a hard time communicating with her mouth, as if she is searching for a rational analysis of who I am, which is, of course, an impossibility: there… is… no… key.
I have tapes of a lot of it, uh some of the girls have seen the tapes.
Tonight I, uh, I just had to kill a LOT of people.
And I’m not sure I’m gonna get away with it this time.
I guess I’ll uh, I mean, ah, I guess I’m a pretty uh, I mean I guess I’m a pretty sick guy.
I want to stab you to death and then play around with your blood.
I want no one to escape.
I have all the characteristics of a human being.
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.
I feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy.
I think my mask of sanity is about to slip.
I always use an aftershave lotion with little or no alcohol.
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.
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.
I want to fit in.
I like to dissect girls.
Did you know I’m utterly insane?
I have to return some videotapes.
I’m into, uh, well, murders and executions, mostly.
My pain is constant and sharp.
I do not hope for a better world for anyone.
In fact, I want my pain to be inflicted on others.
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 conscience, my pity, my hopes disappeared a long time ago.
If you get back tomorrow, I may show up at Harry’s Bar, so you know, keep your eyes open.
She shrugs and nods after I say something about forms of anxiety.
It’s as if her mind is having a hard time communicating with her mouth, as if she is searching for a rational analysis of who I am, which is, of course, an impossibility: there… is… no… key.
I have tapes of a lot of it, uh some of the girls have seen the tapes.
Tonight I, uh, I just had to kill a LOT of people.
And I’m not sure I’m gonna get away with it this time.
I guess I’ll uh, I mean, ah, I guess I’m a pretty uh, I mean I guess I’m a pretty sick guy.
I want to stab you to death and then play around with your blood.
I want no one to escape.
I have all the characteristics of a human being.
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.
I feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy.
I think my mask of sanity is about to slip.
I always use an aftershave lotion with little or no alcohol.
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.
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.
I want to fit in.
I like to dissect girls.
Did you know I’m utterly insane?
I have to return some videotapes.
I’m into, uh, well, murders and executions, mostly.
My pain is constant and sharp.
I do not hope for a better world for anyone.
In fact, I want my pain to be inflicted on others.
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 conscience, my pity, my hopes disappeared a long time ago.
If you get back tomorrow, I may show up at Harry’s Bar, so you know, keep your eyes open.
She shrugs and nods after I say something about forms of anxiety.
It’s as if her mind is having a hard time communicating with her mouth, as if she is searching for a rational analysis of who I am, which is, of course, an impossibility: there… is… no… key.
I have tapes of a lot of it, uh some of the girls have seen the tapes.
Tonight I, uh, I just had to kill a LOT of people.
And I’m not sure I’m gonna get away with it this time.
I guess I’ll uh, I mean, ah, I guess I’m a pretty uh, I mean I guess I’m a pretty sick guy.
I want to stab you to death and then play around with your blood.
I want no one to escape.
I have all the characteristics of a human being.
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.
I feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy.
I think my mask of sanity is about to slip.
I always use an aftershave lotion with little or no alcohol.
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.
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.
I want to fit in.
I like to dissect girls.
Did you know I’m utterly insane?
I have to return some videotapes.
I’m into, uh, well, murders and executions, mostly.
My pain is constant and sharp.
I do not hope for a better world for anyone.
In fact, I want my pain to be inflicted on others.
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 conscience, my pity, my hopes disappeared a long time ago.
If you get back tomorrow, I may show up at Harry’s Bar, so you know, keep your eyes open.
She shrugs and nods after I say something about forms of anxiety.
It’s as if her mind is having a hard time communicating with her mouth, as if she is searching for a rational analysis of who I am, which is, of course, an impossibility: there… is… no… key.
I have tapes of a lot of it, uh some of the girls have seen the tapes.
Tonight I, uh, I just had to kill a LOT of people.
And I’m not sure I’m gonna get away with it this time.
I guess I’ll uh, I mean, ah, I guess I’m a pretty uh, I mean I guess I’m a pretty sick guy.
I want to stab you to death and then play around with your blood.
I want no one to escape.
I have all the characteristics of a human being.
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.
I feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy.
I think my mask of sanity is about to slip.
I always use an aftershave lotion with little or no alcohol.
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.
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.
I want to fit in.
I like to dissect girls.
Did you know I’m utterly insane?
I have to return some videotapes.
I’m into, uh, well, murders and executions, mostly.
My pain is constant and sharp.
I do not hope for a better world for anyone.
In fact, I want my pain to be inflicted on others.
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 conscience, my pity, my hopes disappeared a long time ago.
If you get back tomorrow, I may show up at Harry’s Bar, so you know, keep your eyes open.
She shrugs and nods after I say something about forms of anxiety.
It’s as if her mind is having a hard time communicating with her mouth, as if she is searching for a rational analysis of who I am, which is, of course, an impossibility: there… is… no… key.
Frequently Asked Questions
1. Why do Patrick Bateman’s quotes resonate so strongly with audiences?
Bateman’s quotes capture the tension between outward success and inner emptiness, reflecting anxieties about identity, conformity, and authenticity in a consumer-driven society. His deadpan delivery and shocking admissions force audiences to confront uncomfortable truths about modern life.
2. What makes Patrick Bateman a unique character in literature and film?
Bateman is both a product and a critique of his environment-a yuppie obsessed with image, yet painfully aware of his own lack of substance. His unreliable narration and dual existence blur the lines between reality and delusion, making him endlessly fascinating.
3. How has internet culture influenced the popularity of Bateman’s quotes?
Social media and meme culture have transformed Bateman into a “sigma male” icon, with his quotes used both ironically and unironically to comment on ambition, alienation, and masculinity. Memes featuring Bateman’s lines have cemented his status as a cultural touchstone.
4. Are Bateman’s quotes meant to be taken seriously or satirically?
Many of Bateman’s lines are intentionally satirical, exposing the absurdity of materialism and the hollowness of social status. However, some fans embrace them at face value, which adds to the character’s complexity and the ongoing debate about his legacy.
5. What themes do Bateman’s quotes explore?
His quotes delve into themes of identity, consumerism, alienation, violence, and the search for meaning in a superficial world. They also highlight the dangers of unchecked narcissism and the dehumanizing effects of modern capitalism.
6. How did Christian Bale’s portrayal influence the impact of Bateman’s quotes?
Bale’s performance brought a chilling charisma and dark humor to the character, making Bateman’s lines both memorable and unsettling. His delivery helped elevate the quotes from the page to iconic status on screen.
7. What is the legacy of Patrick Bateman’s character and his quotes today?
Bateman remains a symbol of both the allure and the dangers of surface-level perfection. His quotes continue to be referenced in discussions about masculinity, mental health, and the pitfalls of modern society, ensuring his place in the cultural zeitgeist for years to come.
Conclusion
Patrick Bateman’s quotes have transcended the pages of Bret Easton Ellis’s novel and the frames of the iconic film to become a cultural phenomenon in their own right. Whether chilling, darkly humorous, or disturbingly relatable, these lines offer more than just a glimpse into the mind of a fictional serial killer-they serve as a mirror reflecting the anxieties, ambitions, and contradictions of modern life. Bateman’s obsession with image, status, and perfection resonates in a world increasingly driven by appearances and social validation. His words, often delivered with icy detachment, force us to confront uncomfortable truths about conformity, emptiness, and the masks we wear to fit in.
The enduring popularity of Patrick Bateman quotes is a testament to the character’s complexity and the skill with which both Ellis and Christian Bale brought him to life. Fans and critics alike continue to debate the meaning behind his most famous lines, using them as both warnings and rallying cries in discussions about masculinity, consumerism, and authenticity. In the age of social media, Bateman’s words have found new life as memes, soundbites, and even motivational slogans-sometimes used ironically, sometimes not.
Ultimately, the fascination with Patrick Bateman and his quotes speaks to a deeper human desire to understand the darkness within ourselves and our society. His character challenges us to question what lies beneath the surface of success, and whether true identity can ever be found in a world obsessed with appearances. As you reflect on these quotes, consider not just their shock value, but the uncomfortable questions they raise about the search for meaning, the cost of conformity, and the nature of the self. In doing so, you may discover that the most haunting aspect of Bateman’s words is not their brutality, but their unsettling relevance to our own lives.
