

You are not special. You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake. You're the same decaying organic matter as everything else.
Longer Version:
You are not special. You're not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You're the same decaying organic matter as everything else. We're all part of the same compost heap. We're all singing, all dancing crap of the world.

Stop trying to control everything and just let go! LET GO!

Unless we have that moment of chaos, followed by the emotional release of realization, nothing will be remembered.

The voice says, maybe you don't go to hell for the things you do. Maybe you go to hell for the things you don't do. The things you don't finish.

The damaged love the damaged. True fact.

To hell with housework, our top priority has always been between our legs.

Or maybe...just maybe this whole process is our training wheels towards something bigger. If we can reflect and know our lives, we might stay awake and shape our futures.

After a good-looking boy gives you rabies two, three times, you'll settle down and marry somebody less exciting for the rest of your life.

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

Shotgunning anybody in this room would be the moral equivalent of killing a car, a Barbie doll, a vacuum cleaner. We're all such products.

Didn't I realize that each of us is a sacred, unique snowflake of special unique specialness?

The lower you fall, the higher you'll fly. The farther you run, the more God wants you back.

Love is bullshit. Emotion is bullshit. I am a rock. A jerk. I'm an uncaring asshole and proud of it.

I'm always identifying some fallacy in my own life. I'm sort of making fun of myself by exploring and unpacking just why I'm sort of automatically thrown to be a certain way.

A knife, it felt like a knife, and I'd discovered that despite everything that's happened, I still had an endless untapped potential for getting hurt.

Not everything is about money. You didn't even say, hello. You are not your sad little wallet.

It took my whole life to buy this stuff.

That's why I write, because life never works except in retrospect. You can't control life, at least you can control your version.

We've taken the world apart but we have no idea what to do with the pieces.

The girls you meet are never very far from their worst-case scenario.

Godless, 'we had no war.'
Until God set us to fight each other, for the rest of human history.

We're all of us haunted and haunting.

Without just one nest
A bird can call the world home
Life is your career.

When you think about it, Johnny Appleseed was a fucking ecological terrorist.

These days, most of the people you hear laughing are dead.

Today is the sort of day where the sun only comes up to humiliate you.

How I feel is cheap and used, dirty and humiliated. Dirty and tricked and thrown away.

I say never be complete, I say stop being perfect, I say let... lets evolve, let the chips fall where they may.

What I did was pour out about a gallon of Chanel Number Five and put a burning wedding invitation to it, and boom, I'm recycling.

You grow up to become living proof of your parents' limitations. Their less-than masterpiece.

We have pain and hate and love and joy and war in the world because we want them.

Each wedding picture was less of a memento than a scar. Proof of some horror movie scenario Katherine Kenton has survived.

How is it that you keep mutating and can still be the same virus?

I wanted to destroy everything beautiful I'd never have.
Longer Version:
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 wanted the whole world to hit bottom.

The only biodiversity we're going to have left is Coke versus Pepsi. We're landscaping the whole world one stupid mistake at a time.

I disconnect the telephone to keep the outside world in it's correct place.

Some mythological fat asswipe drives our national economy.

My books are always about someone obtaining a power to replace the previous sort of power that they held.

No, none of us seem so very real. We're only supporting characters in the lives of each other. Any real truth, any precious fact will always be lost in a mountain of shattered make-believe.

New carpet will exude poisonous formaldehyde for up to two years after it'd been laid. I know the feeling.

It's not living alone if you keep a rifle under the bed.

Real smarts begin when you quit quoting other people.

I write because it's a way of presenting something without having to be there.

Until you find something to fight for, you settle for something to fight against.

Maybe self-improvement isn't the answer, maybe self-destruction is the answer.

Those who remember the past tend to get the story really screwed up.

Nothing is static. Even the Mona Lisa is falling apart. Since fight club, I can wiggle half the teeth in my jaw. Maybe self-improvement isn't the answer. Maybe self-destruction is the answer.

Self improvement is masturbation.

I don't want to die without a few scars.

This wasn't any mere song and dance; here was a bold, blaring declaration howling itself into the empty face of death.

On the other side of the handrail, the hallway's gray marble floor looks as if we've climbed a stairway through the clouds.

Because tanning and steroids are only a problem if you plan to live a long time.

Maybe people have to really suffer before they can risk doing what they love.

Waiters will always pee in soup, people will always fall in love.

We'd turn our lives into a terrible adventure. A true-life horror story with a happy ending. A trial we'd survive to talk about.

Anybody's true nature is bullshit. There is no human soul. Emotion is bullshit. Love is bullshit.

Seek midday nourishment. Visit memorial acclaimed war hero Colonel Sanders.

The avant-garde in every field consists of the lonely, the friendless, the uninvited. All progress is the product of the unpopular.

For the most part my friends can always be more entertaining than the tube ever can be.

Burn the Louvre, and wipe your ass with the Mona Lisa. This way at least, God would know our names.

The girl is infectious human waste, and she's confused and afraid to commit to the wrong thing and so she won't commit to anything.

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

Worker bees can leave. Even drones can fly away. The Queen is their slave.

The truth is, immigrants tend to be more American than people born here.

There is nothing special in the world. nothing magic. just physics.

In light this bright, after so long in the dark, everything we can see is only black and white. Only glaring shape-outlines we have to blink against.

The only difference between a suicide and a martyrdom really is the amount of press coverage.

Sex pretty much cures everything.

Fathers. Mothers. With all their caring and attention. They will f -- - you up, every time.

First your parents, they give you your life, but then they try to give you their life.

On a night without moon or stars you can't see a thing, but you can imagine anything.

Nothing shows you the straight line from here to death like a list.

The crap and the trash of the world. Post-consumer human butt wipe that no one would ever go to the trouble to recycle.

After fight club you're so relaxed, you just cannot care.

This isn't about love as in caring. This is about property as in ownership.

Crying is right at hand in the smothering dark, closed inside someone else, when you see how everything you can ever accomplish will end up as trash.

More and more, the hardest part of crying is when I can't stop.

What if reality is nothing but some disease?

I hate how I don't feel real enough unless people are watching.

Only in death will we have our own names since only in death are we no longer part of the effort. In death we become heroes.

You have to give up! you have to give up!
You have to realize that someday you will die,
Until you know that, you are useless!

The best way is not to fight it, just go. Don't be trying all the time to fix things. What you run from only stays with you longer. When you fight something, you only make it stronger.
Quotes by Chuck Palahniuk are featured in:
Happiness Quotes
Depression Quotes
Inspirational Quotes
Simplicity Quotes
You Yourself Quotes
Short Love Quotes