Yossarian was cold, too, and shivering uncontrollably. He felt goose pimples clacking all over him as he gazed down despondently at the grim secret Snowden had spilled all over the messy floor. It was easy to read the message in his entrails. Man was matter, that was Snowden's secret. Drop him out a window and he'll fall. Set fire to him and he'll burn. Bury him and he'll rot, like other kinds of garbage. The spirit gone, man is garbage. That was Snowden's secret. Ripeness was all. I'm cold,' Snowden said. 'I'm cold.

Men went mad and were rewarded with medals.

He was sick with lust and mesmerized with regret

Clevinger had a mind, and Lieutenant Scheisskoph had noticed that people with minds tended to get pretty smart at times.

The enemy is anybody who's going to get you killed, no matter which side he's on.

Peace on earth would mean the end of civilization as we know it.

Why are they going to disappear him?' I don't know.' It doesn't make sense. It isn't even good grammar.