But That Was War. Just About All

The Promises Of Maniacs, Like Those Of Women, Are Not Safely Relied Upon.

Let's Take A Drive Into The Middle Of Nowhere With A Packet Of Marlboro Lights And Talk About Our Lives.

I Want To Keep My Dreams, Even Bad Ones, Because Without Them, I Might Have Nothing All Night Long.

After He Made Up His Mind To Spend The Rest Of The War In The Hospital, Yossarian Wrote Letters To Everyone He Knew Saying That He Was In The Hospital But Never Mentioning Why. One Day He Had A Better Idea. To Everyone He Knew He Wrote That He Was Going On A Very Dangerous Mission. "they Asked For Volunteers. It's Very Dangerous, But Someone Has To Do It. I'll Write You The Instant I Get Back." And He Had Not Written Anyone Since.

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.