“What is a country? A country is a piece of land surrounded on all sides by boundaries, usually unnatural. Englishmen are dying for England, Americans are dying for America, Germans are dying for Germany, Russians are dying for Russia. There are now fifty or sixty countries fighting in this war. Surely so many countries can't all be worth dying for.”

“Nately was instantly up in arms again. "There is nothing so absurd about risking your life for your country!" he declared."Isn't there?" asked the old man. "What is a country? A country is a piece of land surrounded on all sides by boundaries, usually unnatural. Englishmen are dying for England, Americans are dying for America, Germans are dying for Germany, Russians are dying for Russia. There are now fifty or sixty countries fighting in this war. Surely so many countries can't all be worth dying for.""Anything worth living for," said Nately, "is worth dying for.""And anything worth dying for," answered the sacrilegious old man, "is certainly worth living for.”

“Surely there can't be so many countries worth dying for.'Anything worth living for,' said Nately, 'is worth dying for.'And anything worth dying for,' answered the sacrilegious old man, 'is certainly worth living for.”

“...[A]nything worth dying for ... is certainly worth living for.”

“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.”

“All over the world, boys on every side of bomb line were laying down their lives for what they had been told was their country, and no one seemed to mind, least of all the boys who were laying down their young lives.”

“Only a fraction of his countrymen would give up their lives to win it (the war), and it was not his ambition to be among them. To die or not to die, that was the question, and Clevinger grew limp trying to answer it. History did not demand Yossarian's premature demise, justice could be satisfied without it, progress did not hinge upon it, victory did not depend on it. That men would die was a matter of necessity; which men would die, though, was a matter of circumstance, and Yossarian was willing to be the victim of anything but circumstance. But that was war. Just about all he could find in its favor was that it paid well and liberated children from the pernicious influence of their parents.”