Personal Life
Chuck Palahniuk Life
Chuck Palahniuk with a fake moustache. Source: Andrea Lodi / Fickr.
License: (CC BY-ND 2.0)
Harp not on that. Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide arch Of the rang'd empire fall! Here is my space. Kingdoms are clay Haunted ; I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid it Choke. O good old man, how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, When service sweat for duty, not for meed! Thou art not for the fashion of these times.
“The things you used to own, now they own you.” Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk
Where none will sweat but for promotion, And Fiction Books having that do choke their service up Even with the having; it is not so with thee. I must have liberty Withal, as large a charter as the wind, To blow on whom I please, for so fools have; And they that are most galled with my folly, They most must laugh.
Draw of Tyler Durden, character in Fight Club. Source: Jesica Pereira / Fickr.
License: (CC BY 2.0)
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. Those his goodly eyes, That o'er the files and musters of the war Have glow'd like plated Mars, now bend, now turn, The office and devotion of their view Upon a tawny front. Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide arch Of the rang'd empire fall! Here is my space. Kingdoms are clay; He'll go along o'er the wide world with me; Leave me alone to woo him.
“I admire addicts. In a world where everybody is waiting for some blind, random disaster or some sudden disease, the addict has the comfort of knowing what will most likely wait for him down the road. He's taken some control over his ultimate fate, and his addiction keeps the cause of his death from being a total surprise.” Choke by Chuck Palahniuk
But Fight Club come thy ways, we'll go along together, And ere we have thy youthful wages spent We'll light upon some settled low content.` Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion; Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing.
BookShelf with Invisible Monsters by Chuck Palahniuk. Source: A snapshot of my bookshelf, by Gemma Bessant- Platform/ Fickr.
License: (CC BY-NC 2.0)
The King's a beggar, now the play is done. Thou art thy father's daughter; there's enough non-Fiction. In respect that it is solitary, I like it very well; but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile life Invisible Monsters . Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd?
Let me love him for that; and do you love him because I do. Look, here comes the Duke. My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oft Your Grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. But if thy love were ever like to mine, As sure I think did never man love so, How many actions most ridiculous Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy? You have a nimble wit; I think 'twas made of Atalanta's heels. Will you sit down with me? and we two will rail against our mistress the world, and all our misery.
I will wear my heart upon my sleeve To hide us from pursuit that will be made After my flight. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow. ut were I not the better part made mercy, I should not seek an absent argument Of my revenge, thou present. Most shallow man! thou worm's meat in respect of a good piece of flesh indeed! Learn of the wise, and perpend: civet is of a baser birth than tar- the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend the instance, shepherd.