Tyler Durden and maybe a little Marla...and Bob can come too...
Fight Club Quotes
This is your life and it's ending one minute at a time.
Fuck off with your sofa units and serine green stripe patterns, I say never be complete, I say stop being perfect, I say let... lets evolve, let the chips fall where they may.
Fight Club was the beginning, now it's moved out of the basement, it's called Project Mayhem.
Only after disaster can we be resurrected.
This is your life... good to the last drop.
Now as a question of etiquette, do I give you the ass or the crotch?
I want you to his me as hard as you can.
_______________________________________________________________________________
Did you know if you mixed equal parts of gasoline and frozen orange juice concentrate you can make napalm?
No. I did not know that. Is that true?
That's right; one can make all kinds of explosives using simple household items...
Really?
If one were so inclined.
________________________________________________________________________________
Fuck damnation, man! Fuck redemption! We are God's unwanted children? So be it!
Go ahead, Cornelius, you can cry.
Oxygen gets you high. In a catastrophic emergency, you're taking giant panicked breaths. Suddenly you become euphoric, docile. You accept your fate. It's all right here. Emergency water landing - 600 miles an hour. Blank faces, calm as Hindu cows.
I've got a stomachful of Xanax. I took what was left of a bottle. It might have been too much.
My God. I haven't been fucked like that since grade school.
I am Jack's smirking revenge.
Man, I see in fight club the strongest and smartest men who've ever lived. I see all this potential, and I see squandering. God damn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war... our Great Depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed off.
First person that comes out this fucking door gets a... gets a *lead salad*, you understand?
All the ways you wish you could be, that's me. I look like you wanna look, I fuck like you wanna fuck, I am smart, capable, and most importantly, I am free in all the ways that you are not.
People are always asking me if I know Tyler Durden.
Bob. Bob had bitch tits.
They're gonna have to open my pecs again to drain the fluid.
Between those huge sweating tits that hung enormous, the way you'd think of God's as big.
Its not until you lose everything that you are free to do anything
I felt like destroying something beautiful.
You're not your job. You're not how much money you have in the bank. You're not the car you drive. You're not the contents of your wallet. You're not your fucking khakis. You're the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.
The first rule of Fight Club is - you do not talk about Fight Club. The second rule of Fight Club is - you DO NOT talk about Fight Club. Third rule of Fight Club, someone yells Stop!, goes limp, taps out, the fight is over. Fourth rule, only two guys to a fight. Fifth rule, one fight at a time, fellas. Sixth rule, no shirt, no shoes. Seventh rule, fights will go on as long as they have to. And the eighth and final rule, if this is your first night at Fight Club, you have to fight.
Tyler sold his soap to department stores at $20 a bar. Lord knows what they charged. It was beautiful. We were selling rich women their own fat asses back to them.
No, it is not. How much can you know about yourself, you've never been in a fight? I don't wanna die without any scars. So come on; hit me before I lose my nerve.
Shut up! Our fathers were our models for God. If our fathers bailed, what does that tell you about God? Listen to me! You have to consider the possibility that God does not like you. He never wanted you. In all probability, he hates you. This is not the worst thing that can happen.
Sticking feathers up your butt does not make you a chicken.
You're not getting this back. I consider it asshole tax.
Apart from seasoning the lobster bisque, he farted on the meringue, sneezed on braised endive, and as for the cream of mushroom soup, well...
Well, I'm still here. But I don't know for how long. That's as much certainty as anyone can give me. But I've got some good news: I no longer have any fear of death. But... I am in a pretty lonely place. No-one will have sex with me. I'm so close to the end and all I want is to get laid for the last time. I have pornographic movies in my apartment, and lubricants, and amyl nitrate...
Without pain, without sacrifice, we would have nothing.
I felt like putting a bullet between the eyes of every Panda that wouldn't screw to save its species. I wanted to open the dump valves on oil tankers and smother all the French beaches I'd never see. I wanted to breathe smoke.
I get cancer, I kill Jack.
I am Jack's complete lack of surprise.
Fuck what you know. You need to forget about what you know, that's your problem. Forget about what you think you know about life, about friendship, and especially about you and me.
I am Jack's wasted life.
I am Jack's broken heart.
A condom is the glass slipper for our generation. You slip one on when you meet a stranger. You dance all night, and then you throw it away. The condom, I mean, not the stranger.
Tinsel still clinging to it. Like a sex crime victim. Underwear inside out. Bound with electrical tape.
Marla... the little scratch on the roof of your mouth that would heal if only you could stop tonguing it, but you can't.
You don't know where I've been. You don't know where I've been. Just let us have the basement Lou.
Self improvement is masturbation. Now self destruction...
A nice, big, cock...
Hi. You're going to call off your rigorous investigation. You're going to publically state that there is no underground group. Or... these guys are going to take your balls. And send one to the New York Times, one to the LA Times press release staff. Look, the people you are after are the people you depend on. We cook your meals, we drive your ambulances. We connect your calls, we guard you while you sleep. Do not... fuck with us.
Fuck you! Fuck Fight Club! Fuck Marla! I am sick of all your shit!
Now that is one fucking good movie!!!
This is your life and it's ending one minute at a time.
Fuck off with your sofa units and serine green stripe patterns, I say never be complete, I say stop being perfect, I say let... lets evolve, let the chips fall where they may.
Fight Club was the beginning, now it's moved out of the basement, it's called Project Mayhem.
Only after disaster can we be resurrected.
This is your life... good to the last drop.
Now as a question of etiquette, do I give you the ass or the crotch?
I want you to his me as hard as you can.
_______________________________________________________________________________
Did you know if you mixed equal parts of gasoline and frozen orange juice concentrate you can make napalm?
No. I did not know that. Is that true?
That's right; one can make all kinds of explosives using simple household items...
Really?
If one were so inclined.
________________________________________________________________________________
Fuck damnation, man! Fuck redemption! We are God's unwanted children? So be it!
Go ahead, Cornelius, you can cry.
Oxygen gets you high. In a catastrophic emergency, you're taking giant panicked breaths. Suddenly you become euphoric, docile. You accept your fate. It's all right here. Emergency water landing - 600 miles an hour. Blank faces, calm as Hindu cows.
I've got a stomachful of Xanax. I took what was left of a bottle. It might have been too much.
My God. I haven't been fucked like that since grade school.
I am Jack's smirking revenge.
Man, I see in fight club the strongest and smartest men who've ever lived. I see all this potential, and I see squandering. God damn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war... our Great Depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed off.
First person that comes out this fucking door gets a... gets a *lead salad*, you understand?
All the ways you wish you could be, that's me. I look like you wanna look, I fuck like you wanna fuck, I am smart, capable, and most importantly, I am free in all the ways that you are not.
People are always asking me if I know Tyler Durden.
Bob. Bob had bitch tits.
They're gonna have to open my pecs again to drain the fluid.
Between those huge sweating tits that hung enormous, the way you'd think of God's as big.
Its not until you lose everything that you are free to do anything
I felt like destroying something beautiful.
You're not your job. You're not how much money you have in the bank. You're not the car you drive. You're not the contents of your wallet. You're not your fucking khakis. You're the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.
The first rule of Fight Club is - you do not talk about Fight Club. The second rule of Fight Club is - you DO NOT talk about Fight Club. Third rule of Fight Club, someone yells Stop!, goes limp, taps out, the fight is over. Fourth rule, only two guys to a fight. Fifth rule, one fight at a time, fellas. Sixth rule, no shirt, no shoes. Seventh rule, fights will go on as long as they have to. And the eighth and final rule, if this is your first night at Fight Club, you have to fight.
Tyler sold his soap to department stores at $20 a bar. Lord knows what they charged. It was beautiful. We were selling rich women their own fat asses back to them.
No, it is not. How much can you know about yourself, you've never been in a fight? I don't wanna die without any scars. So come on; hit me before I lose my nerve.
Shut up! Our fathers were our models for God. If our fathers bailed, what does that tell you about God? Listen to me! You have to consider the possibility that God does not like you. He never wanted you. In all probability, he hates you. This is not the worst thing that can happen.
Sticking feathers up your butt does not make you a chicken.
You're not getting this back. I consider it asshole tax.
Apart from seasoning the lobster bisque, he farted on the meringue, sneezed on braised endive, and as for the cream of mushroom soup, well...
Well, I'm still here. But I don't know for how long. That's as much certainty as anyone can give me. But I've got some good news: I no longer have any fear of death. But... I am in a pretty lonely place. No-one will have sex with me. I'm so close to the end and all I want is to get laid for the last time. I have pornographic movies in my apartment, and lubricants, and amyl nitrate...
Without pain, without sacrifice, we would have nothing.
I felt like putting a bullet between the eyes of every Panda that wouldn't screw to save its species. I wanted to open the dump valves on oil tankers and smother all the French beaches I'd never see. I wanted to breathe smoke.
I get cancer, I kill Jack.
I am Jack's complete lack of surprise.
Fuck what you know. You need to forget about what you know, that's your problem. Forget about what you think you know about life, about friendship, and especially about you and me.
I am Jack's wasted life.
I am Jack's broken heart.
A condom is the glass slipper for our generation. You slip one on when you meet a stranger. You dance all night, and then you throw it away. The condom, I mean, not the stranger.
Tinsel still clinging to it. Like a sex crime victim. Underwear inside out. Bound with electrical tape.
Marla... the little scratch on the roof of your mouth that would heal if only you could stop tonguing it, but you can't.
You don't know where I've been. You don't know where I've been. Just let us have the basement Lou.
Self improvement is masturbation. Now self destruction...
A nice, big, cock...
Hi. You're going to call off your rigorous investigation. You're going to publically state that there is no underground group. Or... these guys are going to take your balls. And send one to the New York Times, one to the LA Times press release staff. Look, the people you are after are the people you depend on. We cook your meals, we drive your ambulances. We connect your calls, we guard you while you sleep. Do not... fuck with us.
Fuck you! Fuck Fight Club! Fuck Marla! I am sick of all your shit!
Now that is one fucking good movie!!!