Fight Club Quotes

I've got a stomachful of Xanax. I took what was left of a bottle. It might have been too much.

Gentlemen, welcome to Fight Club. 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 shirts, 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 time at Fight Club, you have to fight.

I want you to hit me as hard as you can.

My God. I haven't been fucked like that since grade school.

Narrator: When people think you're dying, they really, really listen to you, instead of just...
Marla Singer: - instead of just waiting for their turn to speak?

This isn't love, it's sport fucking.

It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything.

You met me at a very strange time in my life.

This is a chemical burn. It will hurt more than you've ever been burned before. You will have a scar.

What's that smell?

A guy who came to Fight Club for the first time, his ass was a wad of cookie dough. After a few weeks, he was carved out of wood.

We're a generation of men raised by women. I'm wondering if another woman is really the answer we need.

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.

I am Jack's wasted life.

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.

You're the worst thing that's ever happened to me.

This is your life and it's ending one minute at a time.

It's cheaper than a movie, and there's free coffee.

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.

Every evening I died, and every evening I was born again, resurrected.

God Damn! We just had a near-life experience, fellas.

When you have insomnia, you're never really asleep... and you're never really awake.

I found freedom. Losing all hope was freedom.

Worker bees can leave. Even drones can fly away. The Queen is their slave.

Just tell him you fuckin' did it. Tell him you blew it all up. That's what he wants to hear.

All right, if the applicant is young, tell him he's too young. Old, too old. Fat, too fat. If the applicant then waits for three days without food, shelter, or encouragement he may then enter and begin his training.

Reject the basic assumptions of civilization, especially the importance of material possessions.

...If you don't claim your humanity you will become a statistic. You have been warned

Slide.

In the world I see - you are stalking elk through the damp canyon forests around the ruins of Rockefeller Center. You'll wear leather clothes that will last you the rest of your life. You'll climb the wrist-thick kudzu vines that wrap the Sears Tower. And when you look down, you'll see tiny figures pounding corn, laying strips of venison on the empty car pool lane of some abandoned superhighway.

WHOA! WHOA! OK, you are now firing a gun at your imaginary friend NEAR 400 GALLONS OF NITROGLYCERIN!

Fight Club was the beginning, now it's moved out of the basement, it's called Project Mayhem.

We are all part of the same compost heap.

Tell him. Tell him, The liberator who destroyed my property has realigned my perceptions.

She's a predator posing as a house pet

It's getting exciting now, two and one-half. Think of everything we've accomplished, man. Out these windows, we will view the collapse of financial history. One step closer to economic equilibrium.

The richest, creamiest fat in the world. The fat of the land.

Something on your mind, dear?

Well you did lose a lot of versatile solutions for modern living

Man, you've got some fucked up friends, I'm tellin' ya. Limber, though...

I say never be complete. I say stop being perfect. I say let's evolve. Let the chips fall where they may.

Marla Singer: I got this dress at a thrift store for one dollar.
Narrator: It was worth every penny.
Marla Singer: It's a bridesmaid's dress. Someone loved it intensely for one day, and then tossed it. Like a Christmas tree. So special. Then, bam, it's on the side of the road.
Marla Singer: Tinsel still clinging to it. Like a sex crime victim. Underwear inside out. Bound with electrical tape.
Narrator: Well, then it suits you.
Marla Singer: You can borrow it sometime.

Marla Singer: ...Condom is the glass slipper of our generation. You slip one on when you meet a stranger. You dance all night... then you throw it away. The condom, I mean, not the stranger.
Narrator: What?

Narrator: I know it seems like I have more than one side sometimes...
Marla Singer: More than one side? You're Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Jackass!

Narrator: Bob loved me because he thought my testicles were removed too. Being there, pressed against his tits, ready to cry. This was my vacation... and she ruined *everything*.
Marla Singer: This is cancer, right?
Narrator: This chick Marla Singer did not have testicular cancer. She was a liar. She had no diseases at all. I had seen her at Free and Clear, my blood parasite group Thursdays. Then at Hope, my bi-monthly sickle cell circle. And again at Seize the Day, my tuberculous Friday night. Marla... the big tourist. Her lie reflected my lie. Suddenly, I felt nothing. I couldn't cry, so once again I couldn't sleep.

This isn't a real suicide-thing. This is probably one of those cry-for-help things.

You're not getting this back. I consider it asshole tax.

Your whacked out bald freaks hit me with a fucking broom! They almost broke my arm! They were burning their fingertips with lye, the stink was unbelievable!

Marla Singer: I wish I could return the favor.
Narrator: There's not a lot of breast cancer in the men in my family.
Marla Singer: I could check your prostate.

I've been going to Debtor's Anonymous. You want to see some really fucked-up people...

Candy-stripe a cancer ward. It's not my problem.

And then, something happened. I let go. Lost in oblivion. Dark and silent and complete. I found freedom. Losing all hope was freedom.

Is that what a real man is supposed to look like?

I am Jack's complete lack of surprise.

If I didn't say anything, people always assumed the worst.

I am Jack's smirking revenge.

Marla... the little scratch on the roof of your mouth that would heal if only you could stop tonguing it, but you can't.

With insomnia, nothing's real. Everything's far away. Everything's a copy of a copy of a copy.

Everywhere I travel, tiny life. Single-serving sugar, single-serving cream, single pat of butter. The microwave Cordon Bleu hobby kit. Shampoo-conditioner combos, sample-packaged mouthwash, tiny bars of soap. The people I meet on each flight? They're single-serving friends.

It's called a changeover. The movie goes on, and nobody in the audience has any idea.

I ran. I ran until my muscles burned and my veins pumped battery acid. Then I ran some more.

I am Jack's broken heart.

Narrator: Look, nobody takes this more seriously than me. That condo was my life, okay? I loved every stick of furniture in that place. That was not just a bunch of stuff that got destroyed, it was ME!
Narrator: I'd like to thank the Academy...

Is Tyler my bad dream? Or am I Tyler's?

Marla's philosophy of life is that she might die at any moment. The tragedy, she said, was that she didn't.

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.

On a long enough timeline, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero.

I am Jack's inflamed sense of rejection.

If you wake up at a different time in a different place, could you wake up as a different person?

If I did have a tumor, I'd name it Marla.

Hey, you created me. I didn't create some loser alter-ego to make myself feel better. Take some responsibility!

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.

I'll bring us through this. As always. I'll carry you - kicking and screaming - and in the end you'll thank me.

You have a kind of sick desperation in your laugh.

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.

Hi. You're going to call off your rigorous investigation. You're going to publicly state that there is no underground group. Or... these guys are going to take your balls. They're going to send one to the New York Times, one to the LA Times press-release style. Look, the people you are after are the people you depend on. We cook your meals, we haul your trash, we connect your calls, we drive your ambulances. We guard you while you sleep. Do not... fuck with us.

Hitting bottom isn't a weekend retreat. It's not a goddamn seminar. Stop trying to control everything and just let go! LET GO!

Tomorrow will be the most beautiful day of Raymond K. Hessel's life. His breakfast will taste better than any meal you and I have ever tasted.

Fuck off with your sofa units and strine 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.

WHOA! WHOA! WHOA! Ok, you are now firing a gun at your 'imaginary friend' near 400 GALLONS OF NITROGLYCERINE!

Self improvement is masturbation. Now self destruction...

The first soap was made from heroes' ashes, like the first monkey shot into space.Without pain, without sacrifice, we would have nothing. Like the first monkey shot into space.

Sticking feathers up your butt does not make you a chicken.

Warning: If you are reading this then this warning is for you. Every word you read of this useless fine print is another second off your life. Don't you have other things to do? Is your life so empty that you honestly can't think of a better way to spend these moments? Or are you so impressed with authority that you give respect and credence to all that claim it? Do you read everything you're supposed to read? Do you think every thing you're supposed to think? Buy what you're told to want? Get out of your apartment. Meet a member of the opposite sex. Stop the excessive shopping and masturbation. Quit your job. Start a fight. Prove you're alive. If you don't claim your humanity you will become a statistic. You have been warned- Tyler.

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.

Now, a question of etiquette - as I pass, do I give you the ass or the crotch?

Listen up, maggots. You are not special. You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake. You're the same decaying organic matter as everything else.

The things you own end up owning you.

I can't get married - I'm a thirty-year-old boy.