Is that your blood?
Some of it, yeah.
Most scenes together: Narrator & Tyler Durden (11), Narrator & Marla Singer (5)
Is that your blood?
Some of it, yeah.
You don't know which wire to pull.
I know everything you do, so if you know I know.
Or maybe, since I knew you'd know I spent all day thinking about the wrong wires.
Did you know that if you mix equal parts of gasoline and frozen orange juice concentrate, you can make napalm?
No, I did not know that. Is that true?
That's right. One could make all kinds of explosives, using simple household items.
Really ...?
If one were so inclined.
Tyler, you are by far the most interesting single-serving friend I've ever met. ... See, I have this thing: everything on a plane is single-serving ...
Oh, I get it. It's very clever.
Thank you.
How's that working out for you?
What?
Being clever.
... Great.
Keep it up, then. Right up. [gets up from seat] Now, a question of etiquette: as I pass, do I give you the ass or the crotch?
OK, any historic figure.
I'd fight Gandhi.
Good answer.
How about you?
Lincoln.
Lincoln?
Big guy, big reach. Skinny guys fight 'til they're burger.
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.
Martha Stewart.
**** Martha Stewart! Martha's polishing the brass on the Titanic; it's all going down, man. So **** off with your sofa units and your Strinne green stripe patterns. I say, never be complete. I say, stop being perfect. I say, let's evolve, and let the chips fall where they may.
You decide your level of involvement!
I will! I want to know certain things first.
The first rule of Project-- (Narrator: SHUT. UP.)
Actually, throwers don't worry about ticking 'cause modern bombs don't tick.
Sorry, throwers?
Baggage handlers. But when a suitcase vibrates, then the throwers gotta call the police.
My suitcase was vibrating?
Nine times out of ten it's an electric razor. But ... every once in a while [looks around, leans in conspiratorially] ... it's a dildo. [leans back] Of course, it's company policy never to imply ownership in the event of a dildo. We have to use the indefinite article, "a dildo", never ... your dildo.
I don't own a dildo!
Hey, even the Mona Lisa's falling apart.
Remember, no one has the right to touch you in your bathing-suit area.
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. We're going to send one to the New York Times, one to the L.A. 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 **** with us.
A 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.
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.