...[a]nything Worth Dying For ... Is Certainly

Some Men Are Born Mediocre, Some Men Achieve Mediocrity, And Some Men Have Mediocrity Thrust Upon Them. With Major Major It Had Been All Three. Even Among Men Lacking All Distinction He Inevitably Stood Out As A Man Lacking More Distinction Than All The Rest, And People Who Met Him Were Always Impressed By How Unimpressive He Was.

Someone Had To Do Something Sometime. Every Victim Was A Culprit, Every Culprit A Victim, And Somebody Had To Stand Up Sometime To Try To Break The Lousy Chain Of Inherited Habit That Was Imperiling Them All.

Clevinger Had A Mind, And Lieutenant Scheisskoph Had Noticed That People With Minds Tended To Get Pretty Smart At Times.

Actually There Were Many Officers' Clubs That Yossarian Had Not Helped Build, But He Was Proudest Of The One On Pianosa. It Was A Sturdy And Complex Monument To His Powers Of Determination. Yossarian Never Went There To Help Until It Was Finished; Then He Went There Often, So Pleased Was He With The Large , Fine, Rambling Shingled Building. It Was A Truly Splendid Building, And Yossarian Throbbed With A Mighty Sense Of Accomplishment Each Time He Gazed At It And Reflected That None Of The Work That Had Gone Into It Was His.

All Of Our Religions But The Judaic And The Greek Think More Of Us Dead Than Alive.