Joseph Heller Quotes
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Gold was not altogether certain what, anatomically, a gorge was, but he knew that his was rising.
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All of our religions but the Judaic and the Greek think more of us dead than alive.
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Sure, that's what I mean,' Doc Daneeka said. 'A little grease is what makes this world go round. One hand washes the other. Know what I mean? You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours.' Yossarian knew what he meant. That's not what I meant,' Doc Daneeka said, as Yossarian began scratching his back.
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Some people are born mediocre, some people achieve mediocrity, and some people have mediocrity thrust upon them.
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The Texan turned out to be good-natured, generous and likable. In three days no one could stand him.
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There was no telling what people might find out once they felt free to ask whatever questions they wanted to.
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There's a rule saying I have to ground anyone who's crazy ... There's a catch. Catch-22. Anyone who wants to get out of combat duty isn't really crazy.
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I could not write about a subject sacred to me because I would be too flippant. Fortunately, there are no subjects sacred to me.
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Nurse Duckett found Yossarian wonderful and was already trying to change him.
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Well, he died. You don't get any older than that.
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If Richard Nixon was second-rate, what in the world is third-rate?
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Gold was not sure of many things, but he was definite about one: for every successful person he knew, he could name at least two others of greater ability, better, and higher intelligence who, by comparison, had failed.
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I'd like to see the government get out of war altogether and leave the whole field to private individuals.
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If character is destiny, the good are damned.
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If God was dead, how could I feel this bad?
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When I look up, I see people cashing in. I don't see heaven or saints or angels. I see people cashing in on every decent impulse and every human tragedy.
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Yossarian was cold, too, and shivering uncontrollably. He felt goose pimples clacking all over him as he gazed down despondently at the grim secret Snowden had spilled all over the messy floor. It was easy to read the message in his entrails. Man was matter, that was Snowden's secret. Drop him out a window and he'll fall. Set fire to him and he'll burn. Bury him and he'll rot, like other kinds of garbage. The spirit gone, man is garbage. That was Snowden's secret. Ripeness was all. I'm cold,' Snowden said. 'I'm cold.
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The country was in peril; he was jeopardizing his traditional rights of freedom and independence by daring to exercise them.
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It doesn't make a damned bit of difference who wins the war to someone who's dead.
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Why are they going to disappear him?' I don't know.' It doesn't make sense. It isn't even good grammar.
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The problem with the loneliness I suffer is that the company of others has never been a cure for it.
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I want to keep my dreams, even bad ones, because without them, I might have nothing all night long.
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As always occurred when he quarreled over principles in which he believed passionately, he would end up gasping furiously for air and blinking back bitter tears of conviction. There were many principles in which Clevinger believed passionately. He was crazy.
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From men motivated by moral certitude, history teaches, no lasting good ever comes.