“I want to keep my dreams, even bad ones, because without them, I might have nothing all night long.”

“I used to get a big kick out of saving people’s lives. Now I wonder what the hell’s the point, since they all have to die anyway.”“Oh, there’s a point, all right,” Dunbar assured him.“Is there? What’s the point?”“The point is to keep them from dying as long as you can.”“Yeah, but what’s the point, since they all have to die anyway?”“The trick is not to think about that.”“Never mind the trick. What the hell’s the point?”Dunbar pondered in silence for a few moments. “Who the hell knows.”

“Maybe a long life does have to be filled with many unpleasant conditions if it's to seem long. But in that event, who wants one?”

“Look, I might keep interested in this if you stop shouting it all over the island and if you stick to killing Colonel Cathcart. But if you're going to turn it into a bloodbath, you can forget about me.”

“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.”

“Why don't you ever whip me?" she pouted one night."Because I haven't the time," he snapped at her impatiently. "I haven't the time. Don't you know there's a parade going on?”

“I wouldn't want to live without strong misgivings.”