IRC-Galleria

This is your life and it's
ending one minute at a
time.


Warning: If you are
reading this then this
warning is for you. Every
word you read of this
useless fine print is
another second off your
life. Don't you have other
things to do? Is your life
so empty that you honestly
can't think of a better
way to spend these
moments? Or are you so
impressed with authority
that you give respect and
credence to all that claim
it? Do you think every
thing you're supposed to
think? Buy what you're
told to want? Get out of
your apartment. Meet a
member of the opposite
sex. Stop the excessive
shopping and masturbation.
Quit your job. Start a
fight. Prove you're alive.
If you don't claim your
humanity you will become a
statistic. You have been
warned- Tyler.

Hey, you created me. I
didn't create some loser
alter-ego to make myself
feel better.

All right, if the
applicant is young, tell
him he's too young. Old,
too old. Fat, too fat. If
the applicant then waits
for three days without
food, shelter, or
encouragement he may then
enter and begin his
training.

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

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.

The things you own end up
owning you.

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.

Without pain, without
sacrifice, we would have
nothing.

And then, something
happened. I let go. Lost
in oblivion. Dark and
silent and complete. I
found freedom. Losing all
hope was freedom.

Fuck what you know. You
need to forget about what
you know, that's your
problem. Forget about what
you think you know about
life, about friendship,
and especially about you
and me.

We're consumers. We are
by-products of a lifestyle
obsession. Murder, crime,
poverty, these things
don't concern me.

I'll bring us through
this. As always. I'll
carry you - kicking and
screaming - and in the end
you'll thank me.

Every evening I died, and
every evening I was born
again, resurrected.

Narrator: Nobody knows
that they saw it, but they
did...
Tyler Durden: A nice, big
cock...
That's the cue for a
changeover. He flips the
projectors, the movie
keeps right on going, and
nobody in the audience has
any idea.
Like splicing single
frames of pornography into
family films.

Just tell him you fuckin'
did it. Tell him you blew
it all up. That's what he
wants to hear.

You said that if anyone
ever interferes with
Project Mayhem, even you,
we gotta get his balls.

You can swallow a pint of
blood before you get sick.


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.

I know everything you do,
so if you know I know.

Deja vu - all over again.