Brett Ashley Quotes

I heard them laugh. I turned off the light and tried to go to sleep. It was not necessary to read any more. I could shut my eyes without getting the wheeling sensation. But i could not sleep. There is no reason why because it is dark you should look at things differently from when it is light. The hell there isn't! I figured that all out once, and for six months I never slept with the electric light off. That was another bright idea. To hell with women, anyway. To hell with you, Brett Ashley.

To hell with women, anyway. To hell with you, Brett Ashley. Women made such swell friends. Awfully swell. In the first place, you had to be in love with a woman to have a basis of friendship. I had been having Brett for a friend. I had not been thinking about her side of it. I had been getting something for nothing. That only delayed the presentation of the bill. The bill always came. That was one of the swell things you could count on. I thought I had paid for everything. Not like the woman pays and pays and pays.

Oh, go to hell." He stood up from the table his face white, and stood there white and angry behind the little plates of hors d' œuvres. "Sit down," I said. "Don't be a fool." "You've got to take that back." "Oh, cut out the prep-school stuff." "Take it back." "Sure. Anything. I never heard of Brett Ashley. How's that?" "No. Not that. About me going to hell." "Oh, don't go to hell," I said. "Stick around. We're just starting lunch.

The old novels are all about Jane Austen and Dickens heroines who'd as soon put bullets through their heads as let a man kiss them. And, the new novels are...about Brett Ashley, who sleeps with any guy who really insists, but is a poetic pure tortured soul at heart....She talks Lady Brett and acts Shirley, handling the situation on the whole with remarkable willpower----'...'It doesn't take too much willpower, ' Marjorie burst out,...'with most of the boys, who are plain animals, and just need slapping down. And it doesn't take much willpower either wth the conceited intellectuals who try to disarm you by telling you that you're frigid. They're just amusing.

Take it back." "Sure. Anything. I never heard of Brett Ashley. How's that? "No. Not that. About me going to hell." "Oh, don't go to hell," I said. "Stick around. We're just starting lunch.

Brett was me because being me was too much sometimes, something I’d forgotten until that part was ripped away.

Brett *was* me because being me was too much sometimes, something I'd forgotten until that part was ripped away.

Why do you think that?” she asked sharply. It was the kind of question Peter Viertel had warned me about. When they were making The Sun Also Rises, in which she played Hemingway’s Lady Brett Ashley, he told me: “I’d show her the script, she’d ask something innocuous like, ‘Would Lady Brett say that line?’ or ‘Does Lady Brett need to say anything here? Jake [Barnes, the narrator and hero of The Sun Also Rises, played by Tyrone Power] will understand from her look what she’s thinking. There will be no need to spell it out.’ “And suddenly she’s embroiled you in an almighty argument about the script, or about the book you’re trying to write for her. You can’t reason with her because she never approaches anything intellectually. She is the most intuitive woman I know.

Shirley doesn’t play fair, you see. What she wants is what a woman should want, always has and always will—big diamond engagement ring, house in a good neighborhood, furniture, children, well-made clothes, furs—but she’ll never say so. Because in our time those things are supposed to be stuffy and dull. She knows that. She reads novels. So, half believing what she says, she’ll tell you the hell with that domestic dullness, never for her. She’s going to paint, that’s what—or be a social worker, or a psychiatrist, or an interior decorator, or an actress, always an actress if she’s got any real looks—but the idea is she’s going to be somebody. Not just a wife. Perish the thought! She’s Lady Brett Ashley, with witty devil-may-care whimsey and shocking looseness all over the place.

on. “And baby,” I said, my eyes going to Hawk, “I can appreciate you’re upset about Brett and having to rescue me again but if we find out Brett’s going to be okay, you promised me a night out. I don’t think you meant that night was me visiting the police station to talk to you on a phone through glass. I don’t have a visit-your-incarcerated-boyfriend outfit and,” I leaned in, “I don’t want one.

Here I was, Brett Ashley Baker, A.K.A., dead girl, A.K.A., untrained guardian angel, stuck figuring out all of this angel stuff in addition to being dead on my own.