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.

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.

When you're thinking about the rest of your life, you're never really thinking more than a couple years down the road.

We all die. The goal isn't to live forever, the goal is to create something that will.

In the big factory of perfecting human souls, the Earth was kind of tumbler. The sale as the kind people use to polish rocks. All souls come here to rub the sharp edges off each other. This isn't suffering. It's erosion.

You can’t fool people into loving you.

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.