Fight Club movie quotes best

 Fight Club quotes best

Bob had bitch tits.

People are always asking me if I know Tyler Durden.

When the fight was over, nothing was solved, but nothing mattered. We all felt saved.

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

Strangers with this kind of honesty make me grow a big rubbery one.

You wake up at SeaTac, SFO, LAX. You wake up at O'Hare, Dallas-Fort Worth, BWI. Pacific, mountain, central. Lose an hour, gain an hour. This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time.

I am Jack's... complete lack of surprise.

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

I felt like destroying something beautiful.

I am Jack's wasted life.

I am Jack's smirking revenge.

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

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

Fight club wasn't about winning or losing. It wasn't about words. The hysterical shouting was in tongues, like at a Pentecostal Church.

Tyler built himself an army. Why was Tyler Durden building an army? To what purpose? For what greater good? In Tyler we trusted.

When you have a gun in your mouth, you can only speak in vowels.

I want you to really listen to me. My eyes are open.

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

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 night at Fight Club, you have to fight.

Self-improvement is masturbation. Now, self-destruction...

Our fathers were our models for God, if our fathers bailed, what does that tell you about God?

Man, I see in Fight Club the strongest and smartest men who've ever lived. I see all this potential, and I see it squandered. 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 is 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.

In the world I see; you're 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.

Without pain, without sacrifice, we would have nothing.

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

You are 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.

Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. 

Hi, you're gonna call off your rigorous investigation. You're gonna publicly state that there is no underground group, or, these guys are gonna take your balls. They're gonna 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!

The things you own end up owning you.

You have to consider the possibility that God does not like you, never wanted you, in all probability he hates you. It's not the worst thing that could happen.

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

If we are God's unwanted children, so be it!

First you've gotta know - not fear, know - that someday you're gonna die.

I look like you wanna look, I fuck like you wanna fuck, I am smart, capable, and most importantly, I'm free in all the ways that you are not.

We're consumers. We are the byproducts of a lifestyle obsession. Murder, crime, poverty, these things don't concern me. What concerns me are celebrity magazines, television with 500 channels, some guy's name on my underwear. Rogaine, Viagra, Olestra.

You wanna make an omelet, you gotta break some eggs.

Listen up, maggots! You are not special. You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake. You are the same decaying organic matter as everything else. We are the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.

A condom is the glass slipper of 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.

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

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

I've got a stomach full of Xanax. I took what was left in the bottle. It might have been too much.

[on the phone, after taking a bottle of sleeping pills] This isn't a real suicide-thing. This is probably one of those cry-for-help things... You're going to have to keep me up aaaall night.

It's a bridesmaid's dress. I got it at a second-hand store. It was loved intensely for one night.. then cast aside.