«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 have all the characteristics of a human being: flesh, blood, 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».