Lou: [Lou hits Tyler in the face] Do you hear me now?
Tyler Durden: No, I didn’t quite catch that, Lou.
[Lou hits Tyler again]
Tyler Durden: Still not getting it.
[Lou hits Tyler a few more times]
Tyler Durden: Ok, I got it. Shit, I lost it.
[Lou continues to beat up Tyler]
Tyler Durden: Fuck damnation, man! Fuck redemption! We are God’s unwanted children? So be it!
Tyler Durden: 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.
Tyler Durden: It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything.
Tyler Durden: 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.
Narrator: If I did have a tumor, I’d name it Marla.
Narrator: 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.
Richard Chesler: [Reading a piece of paper] The first rule of Fight Club is you don’t talk about Fight Club?
Narrator: [Voice-over] I’m half asleep again; I must’ve left the original in the copy machine.
Richard Chesler: The second rule of Fight Club – is this yours?
Narrator: Huh?
Richard Chesler: Pretend you’re me, make a managerial decision: you find this, what would you do?
Narrator: [pauses] Well, I gotta tell you: I’d be very, very careful who you talk to about that, because the person who wrote that… is dangerous.
[Gets up from the chair]
Narrator: [Talking slowly] And this button-down, Oxford-cloth psycho might just snap, and then stalk from office to office with an Armalite AR-10 carbine gas-powered semi-automatic weapon, pumping round after round into colleagues and co-workers. This might be someone you’ve known for years. Someone very, very close to you.
Narrator: [Voice-over] Tyler’s words coming out of my mouth.
[Snatches the piece of paper from boss' hands]
Narrator: [Voice-over] And I used to be such a nice guy.
Narrator: Or maybe you shouldn’t bring me every little piece of trash you happen to pick up.
[Phone rings]
Narrator: [Into phone] Compliance and Liability…?
Marla Singer: My tit’s gonna rot off.
Narrator: [to boss] Would you excuse me? I need to take this.
Narrator: You’re insane.
Tyler Durden: No, you’re insane.
Narrator: It’s just, when you buy furniture, you tell yourself, that’s it. That’s the last sofa I’m gonna need. Whatever else happens, I’ve got that sofa problem handled.
Tyler Durden: [the Narrator is trying to disarm a car bomb of nitroglycerin] You don’t know which wire to pull.
Narrator: I know everything you do, so if you know I know.
Tyler Durden: Or maybe, since I knew you’d know I spent all days thinking about the wrong wires.
Narrator: “Everything is a copy, of a copy of a copy”
Tyler Durden: 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.
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