She Was The Epitome Of Stately Sorrow

Suppose Everyone On Our Side Felt That Way?

She Was The Epitome Of Stately Sorrow Each Time She Smiled.

Her Own Body Was Such A Familiar And Unremarkable Thing To Her That She Was Puzzled By The Convulsive Ecstasy Men Could Take From It, By The Intense And Amusing Need They Had Merely To Touch It, To Reach Out Urgently And Press It, Squeeze It, Pinch It, Rub It. She Did Not Understand Yossarian's Lust; But She Was Willing To Take Is Word For It.

The Problem With The Loneliness I Suffer Is That The Company Of Others Has Never Been A Cure For It.

"what Would They Do To Me," He Asked In Confidential Tones, "if I Refused To Fly Them?" "we'd Probably Shoot You," Ex-p.f.c. Wintergreen Replied. "we?" Yossarian Cried In Surprise. "what Do You Mean, We? Since When Are You On Their Side?" "if You're Going To Be Shot, Whose Side Do You Expect Me To Be On?" Ex-p.f.c. Wintergreen Retorted.