You realize that our mistrust of the future makes it hard to give up the past.
You realize that our mistrust of the future makes it hard to give up the past.
At some point, your memories, your stories, your adventures, will be the only things you'll have left.
I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as a hot-gushing, butt-cramping, gut hosing orgasm.
My first time I jacked off, I thought I'd invented it. I looked down at my sloppy handful of junk and thought, This is going to make me rich.
There's still a thousand places I haven't gone to die.
About my boss, Tyler tells me, if I'm really angry, I should go to the post office and fill out a change-of-address card and have all his mail forwarded to Rugby, North Dakota.
Everyone has something wrong. And for a while, her heart just sort of flat lined.
I know this because Tyler knows this.
Look up at the stars and you're gone.
Skinny guys fight till they're burger.
This isn't about love as in caring. This is about property as in ownership.
You know, the condom is the glass slipper of our generation. You slip it on when you meet a stranger. You dance all night, then you throw it away. The condom, I mean. Not the stranger.
Hysteria is impossible without an audience.
New carpet will exude poisonous formaldehyde for up to two years after it'd been laid. I know the feeling.
What's burning down is a re-creation of a period revival house patterned after a copy of a copy of a copy of a mock Tudor big manor house. It's a hundred generations removed from anything original, but the truth is aren't we all?
At some point, Wax mentioned how appalling it seemed that those brilliant minds who could invent miracle medicines and nuclear fission and dazzling computer special effects, they had such a complete lack of imagination when it came to spending their money: granite countertops and luxury cars. Talking about that stuff, Wax driving, the madder he got, you could watch the speedo creep up past eighty, ninety, a hundred.
Some mythological fat asswipe drives our national economy.
If a tree falls in the forest and nobody is there to hear it, doesn't it just lie there and rot?
Because I can't save anybody; not as a doctor, not as a son. And because I can't save anybody, I can't save myself.
I told him to buy land, my mum says, they're not making it anymore.
No matter what else you came up against, if you could smile and laugh while a monkey did you with chestnuts in a dank concrete basement while somebody took pictures, well, any other situation would be a piece of cake
These old people. These human ruins.
Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes. working jobs we hate, so we can buy shit we dont need.
Everything is still falling apart.
I let go. Lost in oblivion. Dark and silent and complete. I found freedom. Losing all hope was freedom.
Marla's philosophy of life, she told me, is that she can die at any moment. The tragedy of her life is that she doesn't.
Someday you will die, and until you know that, you're useless to me.
This was freedom. Losing all hope was freedom.
You love me. You ignore me. You save my life, then you cook my mother into soap.
I am an invisible monster, and I am incapable of loving anybody. You don't know which is worse.
On game shows, some people will take the trip to France, but most people will take the washer and dryer pair.
When nobody will look at you, you can stare a hole in them. Picking out all the little details you'd never stare long enough to get if they'd even just return your gaze, this, this is your revenge.
By the time you read this, you'll be older than you remember.
Some people are just born human, the rest of us, we take a lifetime to get there.
If I turn up suicided in the morning, it was murder.
Because nothing is as perfect as you can imagine it.
I used rebellion as a way to hide out. We use criticism as a fake participation.
Picture anybody growing up so stupid he didn't know that hope is just another phase you'll grow out of.
Think of spoiled cat food and ulcerated cankers and expired donor organs. That's how beautiful she looks.
After fight club you're so relaxed, you just cannot care.
For thousands of years, human beings had screwed up and trashed and crapped on this planet, and now history expected me to clean up after everyone. I have to wash out and flatten my soup cans. And account for every drop of used motor oil. And I have to foot the bill for nuclear waste and buried gasoline tanks and landfilled toxic sludge dumped a generation before I was born.
I love everything about Tyler Durden, his courage and his smarts. His nerve. Tyler is funny and charming and forceful and independent, and men look up to him and expect him to change their world. Tyler is capable and free, and I am not.
Maybe self-improvement isn't the answer, maybe self-destruction is the answer.
The amazing miracle of death, when one second you're walking and talking, and the next second you're an object.
Today is the sort of day where the sun only comes up to humiliate you.
You're in Ireland the summer after you left college and you're drinking at a pub near the castle where every day bus loads of English and American tourists come to kiss the Blarney Stone.
I hate how I don't feel real enough unless people are watching.
Parents are like God because you wanna know they're out there, and you want them to think well of you, but you really only call when you need something.
When you understand that what you're telling is just a story. It isn't happening anymore. When you realize the story you're telling is just words, when you can just crumble it up and throw your past in the trashcan, then we'll figure out who you're going to be.
Certi nascono umani. Altri ci mettono una vita a diventarlo.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories