I don't understand the process of imagination-though I know that I am very much at its mercy.

They couldn't keep Death out, but while she was in she had to act like a lady.

And anything worth dying for

Her own body was such a familiar and unremarkable thing to her that she was puzzled by the convulsive ecstasy men could take from it, by the intense and amusing need they had merely to touch it, to reach out urgently and press it, squeeze it, pinch it, rub it. She did not understand Yossarian's lust; but she was willing to take is word for it.

Everything passes. (That's what makes it endurable.)

The enemy," retorted Yossarian with weighted precision, "is anybody who's going to get you killed, no matter which side he's on, and that includes Colonel Cathcart. And don't you forget that, because the longer you remember it, the longer you might live.

I think that maybe in every company today there is always at least one person who is going crazy slowly.