“Well, I'll take these pages and move on. Things are happening elsewhere. Things are always happening. It seems wherever I go there is drama. People are like lice - they get under your skin and bury themselves there. You scratch and scratch until the blood comes, but you can't get permanently deloused. Everywhere I go people are making a mess of their lives. Everyone has his private tragedy. It's in the blood now - misfortune, ennui, grief, suicide. The atmosphere is saturated with disaster, frustration, futility. Scratch and scratch, until there's no skin left. However, the effect upon me is exhilarating. Instead of being discouraged or depressed, I enjoy it. I am crying for more and more disasters, for bigger calamities, grander failures. I want the whole world to be out of whack, I want every one to scratch himself to death.”

“People are like lice - they get under your skin and bury themselves there. You scratch and scratch until the blood comes, but you can't get permanently deloused. ”

“Sure, that's what I mean,' Doc Daneeka said. 'A little grease is what makes this world go round. One hand washes the other. Know what I mean? You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours.'Yossarian knew what he meant.That's not what I meant,' Doc Daneeka said, as Yossarian began scratching his back.”

“I open a paperclip and scratch it across the inside of my left wrist. Pitiful. If a suicide attempt is a cry for help, then what is this. A whimper, a peep? I draw little window cracks of blood, etching line after line until it stops hurting.”

“We’ve come to kill Zarek of Moesia, and if you get in our way, little girl, we’re going to kill you. (Otto)I’ll be damned. He speaks. Or rather growls. (Jess)But not for long if he doesn’t watch his mouth. For the record, Squire, it would take more man than you to even scratch me. (Syra)I live for a woman who scratches. Just make sure you keep it on the back, baby. I don’t like scars. (Otto)”

“I can scratch “scratch myself” off my list of things to do.”