If God Was Dead, How Could I

The Night Was Full Of Horrors, And He Thought He Knew How Christ Must Have Felt As He Walked Through The World, Like A Psychiatrist Through A Ward Full Of Nuts.

He Found Luciana Sitting Alone At A Table In The Allied Officers' Night Club, Where The Drunken Anzac Major Who Had Brought Her There Had Been Stupid Enough To Desert Her For The Ribald Company Of Some Singing Comrades At The Bar. "all Right, I'll Dance With You," She Said, Before Yossarian Could Even Speak. "but I Won't Let You Sleep With Me." "who Asked You?" Yossarian Asked Her. "you Don't Want To Sleep With Me?" She Exclaimed With Surprise. "i Don't Want To Dance With You.

I Think In Every Country That There Is At Least One Executive Who Is Scared Of Going Crazy.

But The God I Don't Believe In Is A Good God, A Just God, A Merciful God. He's Not The Mean And Stupid God You Make Him Out To Be.

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.