Quotes from my favorite movie Fight Club.
This is your life and it's ending one minute at a time.
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. The illusion of safety.
Did you know if you mixed equal parts of gasoline and frozen orange juice concentrate you can make napalm?
Man, I see... the strongest and smartest men who've ever lived. I see all this potential, and I see squandering. 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 you have to give up, first you have to *know*... not fear... *know*... that someday you're gonna die.
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 khakis.
Sticking feathers up your butt does not make you a chicken.
Without pain, without sacrifice, we would have nothing.
It could be worse. A woman could cut off your penis while you're sleeping and toss it out the window of a moving car.
Do you know what a duvet is? It's a blanket. Just a blanket. Why do guys like you and I know what a duvet is? Is it essential to our survival in the hunter-gatherer sense of the word?
The things you own end up owning you.
We're consumers. We are by-products 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. Fuck Martha Stewart. Martha's polishing the brass on the Titanic. It's all going down, man.
Reject the basic assumptions of civilization, especially the importance of material possessions.
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.
We're a generation of men raised by women. I'm wondering if another woman is really the answer we need.
On a long enough time line, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero.
