Narrator: I had it all. Even the glass dishes with tiny bubbles and imperfections, proof they were crafted by the honest, simple, hard-working indigenous peoples of... wherever.
Narrator: I know it seems like I have more than one side sometimes... Marla Singer: More than one side? You're Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Jackass!
Tyler Durden: 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.
Narrator: We have just lost cabin pressure.
Narrator: I've found a new one. For men *only*. Marla Singer: Oh, is it a testicle thing?
Tyler Durden: All the ways you wish you could be, that's me. I look like you wanna look, I fuck like you wanna fuck, I am smart, capable, and most importantly, I am free in all the ways that you are not.
[about attending support groups for diseases she doesn't have] Marla Singer: It's cheaper than a movie, and there's free coffee.
Narrator: Clean food, please. Waiter: In that case, sir, may I advise against the lady eating clam chowder? Narrator: No clam chowder, thank you.
Tyler Durden: Did you know that if you mix equal parts of gasoline and frozen orange juice concentrate you can make napalm? Narrator: No, I did not know that; is that true? Tyler Durden: That's right... One could make all kinds of explosives, using s...
Narrator: I am Jack's cold sweat.
Tyler Durden: We are all part of the same compost heap.
Narrator: I wrote little haiku poems. I emailed them to everyone.
Richard Chesler: Is that your blood? Narrator: Some of it, yeah.
Tyler Durden: God Damn! We just had a near-life experience, fellas.
[Holding up a wad of cash] Marla Singer: You're not getting this back. I consider it asshole tax.
[Of Marla] Tyler Durden: She's a predator posing as a house pet.
Tyler Durden: [the Narrator places the gun under his chin and cocks back the hammer] Now why would you want to go and blow your head off? Narrator: Not my head, Tyler, *our* head.
Narrator: Was it ticking? Airport Security Officer: Actually throwers don't worry about ticking 'cause modern bombs don't tick. Narrator: Sorry, throwers? Airport Security Officer: Baggage handlers. But, when a suitcase vibrates, then the throwers go...
