The years are too short, the days are too long.
Now, where were we? Read me back the last line.
Steal Captain Black’s car,
Colonel Cathcart was impervious to absolutes. He could measure his own progress only in relationship to others, and his idea of excellence was to do something at least as well as all the men his own age who were doing the same thing even better.
There was no telling what people might find out once they felt free to ask whatever questions they wanted to.
The enemy,” retorted Yossarian with weighted precision, “is anybody who’s going to get you killed, no matter which side he’s on
he had been given a sign, a secret, enigmatic vision that he still lacked the boldness to divulge. There was no mistaking the awesome implications of the chaplain’s revelation: it was either an insight of divine origin or a hallucination; he was either blessed or losing his mind.
Shooting skeet eight hours a month was excellent training for them. It trained them to shoot skeet.
Superman?’ Clevinger cried. ‘Superman?’ ‘Supraman,’ Yossarian corrected.
While none of the work we do is very important, it is important that we do a great deal of it.