The Frog Is Almost Five Hundred Million

The Problem With The Loneliness I Suffer Is That The Company Of Others Has Never Been A Cure For It.

Major Major Had Lied, And It Was Good. He Was Not Really Surprised That It Was Good, For He Had Observed That People Who Did Lie Were, On The Whole, More Resourceful And Ambitious And Successful Than People Who Did Not Lie.

What Do You Do When It Rains?" The Captain Answered Frankly. "i Get Wet.

Who's They?" He Wanted To Know. "who, Specifically, Do You Think Is Trying To Murder You?" "every One Of Them," Yossarian Told Him. "every One Of Whom?" "every One Of Whom Do You Think?" "i Haven't Any Idea." "then How Do You Know They Aren't?" "because..." Clevinger Sputtered, And Turned Speechless With Frustration. Clevinger Really Thought He Was Right, But Yossarian Had Proof, Because Strangers He Didn't Know Shot At Him With Cannons Every Time He Flew Up Into The Air To Drop Bombs On Them, And It Wasn't Funny At All.

So Many Things Were Testing His Faith. There Was The Bible, Of Course, But The Bible Was A Book, And So Were Bleak House, Treasure Island, Ethan Frome And The Last Of The Mohicans. Did It Then Seem Probable, As He Had Once Overheard Dunbar Ask, That The Answers To Riddles Of Creation Would Be Supplied By People Too Ignorant To Understand The Mechanics Of Rainfall? Had Almighty God, In All His Infinite Wisdom, Really Been Afraid That Men Six Thousand Years Ago Would Succeed In Building A Tower To Heaven?