Fight Club Quotes(Page 2)
Narrator: [voice over] Except for their humping, Tyler and Marla were never in the same room. My parents pulled this exact same act for years.
Marla: The condom is the glass slipper of our generation. You slip it on when you meet a stranger. You…dance all night…and then you throw it away! The condom, I mean. Not the stranger.
Marla: I got this dress at a thrift store for one dollar.
Narrator: It was worth every penny.
Marla: 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.
[walks up to Narrator’s back and grabs his crotch]
Marla: Tinsel still clinging to it. Like a sex crime victim. Underwear inside out. Bound with electrical tape.
Narrator: Well, then it suits you.
Marla: You can borrow it sometime.
[Tyler tells Narrator to get rid of Marla]
Narrator: [voice over] I’m six years old again, passing messages between parents.
[Marla enters the Kitchen grabbing her stuff to leave]
Narrator: You know what, I really think it’s time you got out of here.
Marla: Don’t worry I’m leaving.
Narrator: Yeah, not like we don’t love your little visits.
Marla: You know you are such a nutcase, I can’t even begin to keep up.
Narrator: Wh…Why do you still waste time with her?
Tyler: I’ll say this about Marla, at least she’s trying to hit bottom.
Narrator: What, and I’m not?
Tyler: Sticking feathers up your butt does not make you a chicken.
Narrator: What are we doing tonight?
Tyler: Tonight, we make soap.
Tyler: To make soap, first we render fat.
[at a biohazard waste dump site]
Tyler: The salt balance has to be just right, so the best fat for making soap comes from humans.
Narrator: Wait. What is this place?
Tyler: A liposuction clinic.
Tyler: Now, ancient peoples found their clothes got cleaner when they washed them at a certain spot in the river. You know why?
Tyler: ‘Cause human sacrifices were once made on the hills above this river. Bodies burnt, water seeped through the wooden ashes to create lye.
[holds up a bottle]
Tyler: This is lye, the crucial ingredient. Once it mixed with the melted fat of the bodies, a thick white soapy discharge crept into the river. May I see your hand, please?
[Tyler licks his lips until they’re gleaming wet. He takes the Narrator’s hand and kisses the back of it]
Narrator: What is this?
[pours the lye on the Narrator’s hand]
Tyler: …is a chemical burn. It will hurt more than you’ve ever been burned and you will have a scar.
[after pouring lye onto Narrator’s hand]
Tyler: Stay with the pain, don’t shut this out.
Narrator: No, GOD!
Tyler: Look at your hand. The first soap was made from the ashes of heroes. Like the first monkeys shot into space. Without pain, without sacrifice we would have nothing.
Narrator: [voice over] I tried not to think of the words “searing” or “flesh”.
[we see a shot of a forest in gentle spring rainfall. Then back to Narrator in deep pain trying to get his hand away from Tyler]
Tyler: [shouting] Stop it! This is your pain…this is your burning hand. It’s right here!
Tyler: 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.
Narrator: It isn’t?
Tyler: We don’t need Him.
Narrator: We don’t, I agree…
Tyler: Fuck damnation, man. Fuck redemption. We are God’s unwanted children. So be it!
Tyler: But first you have to give up. First, you have to know, not fear, know that someday you’re gonna die.
[Narrator spasms with a shiver of pain]
Narrator: You don’t know how this feels!
[Tyler hold up his hand to show a the same burned kiss scar on his own hand]
Tyler: It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything.
Narrator: [voice over] Tyler sold his soap to department stores at $20 a bar. God knows what they charged. It was beautiful. We were selling rich women their own fat asses back to them.
[in the midst of having a long discussion with his boss, the phone rings]
Narrator: [into phone] Compliance and Liability?
Marla: My tit’s gonna rot off.
Narrator: [to his boss] Would you excuse me? I need to take this.
Marla: My tit’s gonna rot off.
[his Boss stares at Narrator and then leaves]
Narrator: [into phone] What are you talking about?
Marla: I need you to check and see if there’s a lump in my breast.
Narrator: Go to hospital.
Marla: I can’t afford to throw money away on a doctor…
[at Marla’s place after giving her a breast exam]
Marla: I wish I could return the favor.
Narrator: There’s not a lot of breast cancer in the men in my family.
Marla: I could check your prostate.
[Narrator runs into Bob and finds out he’s also joined Fight Club]
Bob: Have you heard about the guy who invented this thing?
Narrator: Well, yeah, actually…
Bob: I hear all kinds of things.
Bob: Supposedly, he was born in a mental institution. And he sleeps only one hour a night. He’s a great man.
Bob: Do you know about Tyler Durden?
Narrator: [voice over] Fight club…this was mine and Tyler’s gift…our gift to the world.
[giving a speech to the Fight Club member]
Tyler: Man, I see in fight club the strongest and smartest men who’ve ever lived. I see all this potential, and I see squandering. Goddamn 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.
[after getting beaten up by the owner of the bar that Fight Club is using the basement to have their fights]
Tyler: This week, each one of you has a homework assignment. You’re gonna go out, you’re gonna start a fight with a total stranger…
[there’s a pause as he drools blood]
Tyler: You’re gonna start a fight and you’re gonna lose.
[we see a montage of Fight Club members trying to pick a fight]
Narrator: [voice over] Now this is not as easy as it sounds. Most people, normal people, do just about anything to avoid a fight.
Narrator: We need to talk.
Richard Chesler: Okay. Where to begin? With your constant absenteeism? With your un-presentable appearance? You’re up for a review.
Narrator: I am Jack’s Complete Lack of Surprise.
Richard Chesler: What?
Narrator: Let’s pretend. You’re the Department of Transportation, okay? Someone informs you that this company installs front seat mounting brackets that never pass collision tests, brake linings that fail after a thousand miles and fuel injectors that explode and burn people alive. What then?
Richard Chesler: Are you threatening me?
[his boss sits up in his seat, becoming enraged]
Richard Chesler: Get the fuck outta here! You’re fired.
Narrator: I have a better solution: You keep me on the payroll as an outside consultant and in exchange for my salary my job will be never to tell people these things that I know. I don’t even have to come into the office, I can do this job from home.
Richard Chesler: Who…who the fuck do you think you are, you crazy little shit?
[he stands up and picks up the phone]
Richard Chesler: [into phone] Security?
Narrator: [voice over] I am Jack’s Smirking Revenge.
[Narrator starts to punch himself and falls to the floor]
[Narrator, with bloody face and nose, pushes a shopping cart filled with his office equipment and being escorted out of the building]
Narrator: [voice over] Telephone, computer, fax machine, fifty-two weekly pay-checks and forty-eight airline flight coupons. We now have corporate sponsorship. This is how Tyler and I were able to have fight club every night of the week.
Narrator: [voice over] I am Jack’s wasted life.
Narrator: [voice over] On a long enough time line, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero.
[Tyler is holding a guy on his knees with a gun pointed to the back of his head]
Tyler: Would you rather be dead? Would you rather die? Here? On your knees? In the back of a convenient store?
Raymond: Nooo! Please stop!
[Tyler unlocks the gun and lowers it]
Tyler: I’m keeping your license. I’m gonna check in on you. I know where you live. If you’re not on your way to becoming a veterinarian in six weeks, you will be dead. Now run on home.
[Tyler throws him his wallet. Raymond takes it, staggers to his feet and runs down the alley]
Tyler: [shouting to Raymond] Run, Forrest, run!
Narrator: I feel ill.
Tyler: Imagine how he feels.
Narrator: Come on, this isn’t funny! That wasn’t funny! What the fuck was the point of that?
Tyler: Tomorrow will be the most beautiful day in Raymond K. Hessel’s life. His breakfast will taste better than any meal you and I have ever tasted.
Tyler: You are not your job…you are not how much money you have in the bank…not the car you drive…not the contents of your wallet. You are not your fucking khakis. We are the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.
[Marla has walked into the kitchen after another night spent with Tyler]
Narrator: Hey, listen, um…wh…what are you getting out of this?
Narrator: I mean…all this…why do you keep…is this making you happy?
Marla: Yeah well, sometimes.
Narrator: Well, I don’t know…I don’t understand, why does a weaker person need to latch on a strong person? What…what is that?
Marla: What do you get out of it?
Tyler: Right, if the applicant is young, tell him he’s too young. Old, too old. Fat, too fat.
Tyler: If the applicant then waits for three days without food, shelter, or encouragement he may then enter and begin his training.
Narrator: [voice over] Sooner or later, we all became what Tyler wanted us to be.
[Bob stands outside Tyler’s front porch as a potential ‘applicant’]
Tyler: [to Bob] You’re too old, fat man. Your tits are too big. Get the fuck off my porch.
[newly appointed ‘applicant’ Steph now takes over viewing applicants]
Steph: [to Bob] You’re too fucking old fatty! [to Angel Face] And you! You’re too fucking…blond! Get outta here, both of you.
[Tyler and his army have grabbed Commissioner Jacobs in the bathroom. They hold Jacobs, pulling down his pants. Bob snaps a rubber band]
Tyler: Wrap it around the top of his hackie-sack, Bob.
Bob: Yeah, his balls are ice cold.
Tyler: Hi. You’re going to call off your “rigorous investigation”, you’re gonna publicly state that there is no underground group. Or…these guys gonna take your balls.
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