Fat Ass: You don't understand! I'm not supposed to be here! Inmates: Me neither! They run this place like a fucking prison!
Tyler Durden: [1:24:27] 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.
Narrator: You're fucking Marla, Tyler. Tyler Durden: Uh, technically, you're fucking Marla, but it's all the same to her.
Angel Face: Bury him in the garden. Come on people, let's go! Narrator: Get away from him! Get the fuck away! Angel Face: He was killed serving Project Mayhem, sir. Narrator: This is Bob. He was a decent man, and we're not gonna bury him in the fucking garden!
Narrator: First person that comes out this fucking door gets a... gets a *lead salad*, you understand?
Marla Singer: Your whacked out bald freaks hit me with a fucking broom! They almost broke my arm! They were burning their fingertips with lye, the stink was unbelievable!
Lou: I'm fucking Lou. Who the fuck are you?
Narrator: [1:54:17] No, you have a house. Tyler Durden: Rented in your name. Narrator: You have jobs! You have a whole life! Tyler Durden: You have night jobs because you can't sleep. Or you stay up and make soap. Narrator: Marla. You're fucking Marla, Tyler. Tyler Durden: Technically *you're* fucking Marla, but it's all the same to her. Narrator: Oh my God.
Tyler Durden: 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.
