“They're trying to kill me," Yossarian told him calmly.No one's trying to kill you," Clevinger cried.Then why are they shooting at me?" Yossarian asked.They're shooting at everyone," Clevinger answered. "They're trying to kill everyone."And what difference does that make?”

“...'You haven't got a chance kid,' he had told him glumly. 'They hate Jews.' 'But I'm not Jewish,' answered Clevinger. 'It will make no difference,' Yossarian promised, and Yossarian was right. 'They're after everybody.”

“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.”

“Relax. They're not going to kill us. They're going to TRY and kill us. And that is a very different thing.”

“You gotta help me get out of here! They're trying to kill me. I'm gonna die. I've got $35,000 missing. Those two women took it. They're trying to kill me. You gotta help me. Cut me loose! Cut me loose!”

“But Yossarian knew he was right, because, as he explained to Clevinger, to the best of his knowledge he had never been wrong.”