What Do You Do When

Actually There Were Many Officers' Clubs That Yossarian Had Not Helped Build, But He Was Proudest Of The One On Pianosa. It Was A Sturdy And Complex Monument To His Powers Of Determination. Yossarian Never Went There To Help Until It Was Finished; Then He Went There Often, So Pleased Was He With The Large , Fine, Rambling Shingled Building. It Was A Truly Splendid Building, And Yossarian Throbbed With A Mighty Sense Of Accomplishment Each Time He Gazed At It And Reflected That None Of The Work That Had Gone Into It Was His.

It Doesn't Make A Damned Bit Of Difference Who Wins The War To Someone Who's Dead.

Catch-22 Did Not Exist, He Was Positive Of That, But It Made No Difference. What Did Matter Was That Everyone Thought It Existed, And That Was Much Worse, For There Was No Object Or Text To Ridicule Or Refute, To Accuse, Criticize, Attack, Amend, Hate, Revile, Spit At, Rip To Shreds, Trample Upon Or Burn Up.

After He Made Up His Mind To Spend The Rest Of The War In The Hospital, Yossarian Wrote Letters To Everyone He Knew Saying That He Was In The Hospital But Never Mentioning Why. One Day He Had A Better Idea. To Everyone He Knew He Wrote That He Was Going On A Very Dangerous Mission. "they Asked For Volunteers. It's Very Dangerous, But Someone Has To Do It. I'll Write You The Instant I Get Back." And He Had Not Written Anyone Since.

... There Is Wisdom In Madness And Strong Probability Of Truth In All Accusations, For People Are Complete, And Everyone Is Capable Of Everything.