“I want you to do me a favor. I want you to hit me as hard as you can."I looked around and said, okay. Okay, I say, but outside in the parking lot.So we went outside, and I asked if Tyler wanted it in the face or in the stomach.Tyler said, "Surprise me."I said I had never hit anybody.Tyle said, "So go crazy, man."I said, close your eye.Tyler said, "No."Like every guy on his first night at fight club, I breathed in and swung my fist in a roundhouse at Tyler's jaw like in every cowboy movie we'd ever seen, and me, my fist connected with the side of Tyler's neck.”

“Deliver me from Swedish furniture.Deliver me from clever art.And the phone rang and Tyler answered."If you don't know what you want," the doorman said, "you end up with a lot you don't."May I never be complete.May I never be content.May I never be perfect.Deliver me, Tyler, from being perfect and complete.”

“That Saturday night, a young guy with an angel’s face came to his first fight club, and I tagged him for a fight. I was in a mood to destroy something beautiful . . . Tyler told me later that he'd never seen me destroy something so completely.”

“I asked if Tyler was an artist. Tyler shrugged...What Tyler had created was the shadow of a giant hand. . . he said how at exactly four-thirty the hand was perfect. The giant shadow hand was perfect for one minute, and for one perfect minute Tyler sat in the palm of a perfection he'd created himself. One minute was enough, Tyler said, a person had to work hard for it, but a minute of perfection was worth the effort. A moment was the most you could ever expect from perfection.”

“How I met Tyler was I went to a nude beach. This was the very end of summer, and I was asleep. Tyler was naked and sweating, gritty with sand, his hair wet and stringy, hanging in his face.Tyler had been around before we met.Tyler was pulling driftwood logs out of the surf and dragging them up the beach. In the wet sand, he’d already planted a half circle of logs so they stood a few inches apart and as tall as his eyes. There were four logs, and when I woke up, I watched Tyler pull a fifth log up the beach. Tyler dug a hole under one end of the log, then lifted the other end until the log slid into the hole and stood there at a slight angle.You wake up at the beach.We were the only people on the beach.With a stick, Tyler drew a straight line in the sand several feet away. Tyler went back to straighten the log by stamping sand around its base.I was the only person watching this.Tyler called over, “Do you know what time it is?”I always wear a watch,“Do you know what time it is?”I asked, where?“Right here,” Tyler said. “Right now.” It was 4:06 P.M.After a while, Tyler sat cross-legged in the shadow of the standing logs. Tyler sat for a few minutes, got up and took a swim, pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, and started to leave. I had to ask.I had to know what Tyler was doing while I was asleep.If I could wake up in a different place, at a different time, could I wake up as a different person?I asked if Tyler was an artist.Tyler shrugged and showed me how the five standing logs were wider at the base. Tyler showed me the line he’d drawn in the sand, and how he’d used the line to gauge the shadow cast by each log. Sometimes, you wake up and have to ask where you are. What Tyler had created was the shadow of a giant hand. Only now the fingers were Nosferatu-long and the thumb was too short, but he said how at exactly four-thirty the hand was perfect. The giant shadow hand was perfect for one minute, and for one perfect minute Tyler had sat in the palm of a perfection he’d created himself.You wake up, and you’re nowhere.One minute was enough Tyler said, a person had to work hard for it, but a minute of perfection was worth the effort. A moment was the most you could ever expect from perfection.You wake up, and that’s enough”

“May I never be complete. May I never be content. May I never be perfect. Deliver me, Tyler, from being perfect and complete. ~Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club, Chapter 5”

“Tyler, I'm grateful to you; for everything that you've done for me. But this is too much. I don't want this.What do you want? Wanna go back to the shit job, fuckin' condo world, watching sitcoms? Fuck you, I won't do it.”