The Question Is: What Is A Sane

The Night Was Full Of Horrors, And He Thought He Knew How Christ Must Have Felt As He Walked Through The World, Like A Psychiatrist Through A Ward Full Of Nuts.

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.

I Could Not Write About A Subject Sacred To Me Because I Would Be Too Flippant. Fortunately, There Are No Subjects Sacred To Me.

He Found Luciana Sitting Alone At A Table In The Allied Officers' Night Club, Where The Drunken Anzac Major Who Had Brought Her There Had Been Stupid Enough To Desert Her For The Ribald Company Of Some Singing Comrades At The Bar. "all Right, I'll Dance With You," She Said, Before Yossarian Could Even Speak. "but I Won't Let You Sleep With Me." "who Asked You?" Yossarian Asked Her. "you Don't Want To Sleep With Me?" She Exclaimed With Surprise. "i Don't Want To Dance With You.

Clevinger Was A Troublemaker And A Wise Guy. Lieutenant Scheisskopf Knew That Clevinger Might Cause Even More Trouble If He Wasn't Watched. Yesterday It Was The Cadet Officers; Tomorrow It Might Be The World. Clevinger Had A Mind, And Lieutenant Scheisskopf Had Noticed That People With Minds Tended To Get Pretty Smart At Times. Such Men Were Dangerous, And Even The New Cadet Officers Whom Clevinger Had Helped Into Office Were Eager To Give Damning Testimony Against Him. The Case Against Clevinger Was Open And Shut. The Only Thing Missing Was Something To Charge Him With.