Quotes About Rebellion

The first week I was here, a girl got canned for humming an Erasure song while she was churning butter. It's like, yeah, Erasure is historic, but not historic enough.

I look at God behind his desk, taking notes on a pad, but God's got this all wrong. We are not special. We are not crap or trash, either. We just are. We just are, and what happens just happens. And God says, no, that's not right. Yeah. Well. Whatever. You can't teach God anything.

The previous Madison Spencer would bother to hold their frightened hand, to calm and comfort them. Who I am now, however, I tell them to cry me a stinking shit river and fall down dead, already.

The lye clinging in the exact shape of Tyler's kiss is a bonfire or a branding iron or an atomic pile meltdown on my hand at the end of a long, long road I picture miles away from me. Tyler tells me to come back and be with him. My hand is leaving, tiny and on the horizon at the end of the road.

Me, I'm a bloody tissue sample dried on a bare mattress in my room at the Paper Street Soap Company.

We are God's middle children, according to Tyler Durden, with no special place in history and no special attention.

The first rule about fight club is you don't talk about fight club.

I am the all-singing, all-dancing crap of this world," the space monkey tells the mirror. I am the toxic waste by-product of God's creation.

But I don't want to go back. Not yet. Just because. Because every once in a while, somebody brings me my lunch tray and my meds and he has a black eye or his forehead is swollen with stitches, and he says: We miss you Mr. Durden. Or somebody with a broken nose pushes a mop past me and whispers: Everything's going according to the plan. Whispers We're going to break up civilization so we can make something better out of the world. Whispers We look forward to getting you back.

Tyler's words coming out of my mouth. And I used to be such a nice guy.

I refuse to give readers an uplifting faux experience engineered to comfort them and perpetuate the sociopolitical and economic status quo. Who died and made you Bertolt Brecht?

In the modern Oedipal story, it's the mother who kills the father and then takes the son.

Jump to one time, late one night, driving between Nowhere, Wyoming, and WhoKnowsWhere, Montana, when Seth says how your being born makes your parents God. You owe them your life, and they can control you. "Then puberty makes you Satan," he says, "just because you want something better." J

Sentía ganas de meterle una bala entre los ojos a cualquier panda que se negara a follar para salvar su especie. Quería abrir las válvulas de descarga rápida de todos los petroleros y cubrir de crudo todas esas magnificas playas que yo jamás conocería. Quería respirar humo.

Qué es peor, el infierno o la nada? Quema los museos, límpiate el culo con la Mona Lisa, para que al menos Dios aprenda tu nombre.

Quería destrozar algo hermoso.

You realize that people take drugs because it's the only real personal adventure left to them in their time-constrained, law-and-order, property-lined world.

Only in death are we no longer part of project mayhem

What Tyler says about being the crap and the slaves of history, that's how I felt. I wanted to destroy everything beautiful I'd never have. Burn the Amazon rain forests. Pump chlorofluorocarbons straight up to gobble the ozone. Open the dump valves on supertankers and uncap offshore oil wells. I wanted to kill all the fish I couldn't afford to eat, and smother the French beaches I'd never see.

I say, no. You've used me enough. If you don't cooperate, we'll go after Marla. I say, lead the way.

I say, it's fine. Put a gun to my head and paint the wall with my brains. Just great, I say. Really.

The liberator who destroyed my property has realigned my perceptions.

The moment the colorful papier-mâché burst, instead of Tootsie Rolls or Hershey's Kisses, everyone present was showered with Vicodins, Darvons, Percodans, amyl nitrate ampoules, LSD stamps, and assorted barbiturates. The now-wealthy, now-middle-aged parents were ecstatic, while my little friends and I couldn't help but feel a tad bit cheated.

You young people, you who think you invented fun and drugs, fuck you