Tyler Durden

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. 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 are the middle children of history, men. 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 have all been raised on television to believe that one day we could all be millionaires and movie gods and rock stars. But we won't. We are slowly learning that fact. And we are very, very pissed off.

You created me. I didn't create some loser alter ego to make me feel better. Take some responsibility.

— What do you do for a living?
— Soap.
— Sorry?
— I make and I sell soap. The yardstick of civilization.

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

Fuck damnation man, fuck redemption. We are God's unwanted children? So be it!

— I wanna know what you're thinking.
— Fuck what you know! Forget about what you think you know about life, friendship... And especially about you and me.

— 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.
— Fuck Martha Stewart. Martha's polishing the brass on the Titanic. It's all going down, man. So fuck off with your... sofa units and Strinne green stripe patterns.

I know this because Tyler knows this.