Dying people are so alive!

JACK: We need to talk.

MARLA: Okay. Sure.

JACK: You're a faker. You aren't dying. Okay, in the brainy brain-food philosophy way, we're all dying. But you're not dying the way Chloe is dying.

MARLA: You're not dying, either... Cornelius.

JACK: These are my groups. I found them!

MARLA: I saw you practicing this.

JACK: What?

MARLA: Telling me off. Is it going as well as you thought it would?

JACK: I'll expose you!

MARLA: Go ahead.

JACK: I've put in some serious time on these groups -- I've been coming for a year.

MARLA: Must've been tough to pull off.

JACK: Anyone who might've noticed me in that time has either died or recovered and never come back.

MARLA: Why do you do it?

JACK: Why do you? ... If people think you're dying, they really listen, instead of just waiting for their turn to speak.  Everything else about credit card debts and sad radio songs and thinning hair goes out the window.

MARLA: It started with a lump. I went to a breast cancer support group. The lump turned out benign. But I still needed my Monday fix. So, I went to lymphoma, just to check it out. Dying people are so alive.

JACK: It becomes an addiction.

MARLA: Yeah ...

JACK: Look, I can't go to a group with a faker present.

MARLA: Well, I can't either.

JACK: We'll split up the week.

The Fight Club (1999) by David Fincher