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468 pages, Kindle Edition
First published October 1, 1994
We had all nearly been killed.
That did not sink in until early middle age, and after than when I related the anecdote, it was not just for the laughs.
There were enemies of abortion who wanted to inflict death penalty on everyone who was not pro-life.
"I still can't tell if you're joking."
"I'm still not always sure either," Yossarian answered. "Sometimes I mean what I say and don't mean it at the same time."
Most of us have done much better than we ever thought we would or our parents dreamed we would.
Where were you?
When you heard about Pearl Harbor. When the atom bomb went off. When Kennedy was killed.
I know where I was when the radio gunner Snowden was killed on the second mission to Avignon, and that meant more to me then than the Kennedy assassination did later.
On Monday one third of the nation was ill-housed, ill-clothed, and ill-fed. And on Thursday there were ten million people in the military making more than most had been able to earn before. [..]
Suddenly there was enough for everything. Did all the credit belong to Hitler? Capitalism, my father probably would answer with a smile of resignation, as though for this humane socialist all of the evils of inequality could be clarified in that sinful single word. "For war there is always enough. It's peace that's too expensive."
"But each time I think of that bus terminal, I imagine it's what Dante's Inferno might represent."
"That's a fresh concept," Yossarian observed wryly. They were the sole passengers.
"Except," amended Michael, as they descended, "the PABT building is out in the open. Like something normal."
"That makes it worse, doesn't it?" said Yossarian.
"Than hell?" Michael shook his head.
"Sartre says hell is other people. You should read him."
"I don't want to read him. That's silly, if he was serious. It sound like something said just for people like you to quote him."
"They have a right to keep him, don't they?"
"No, they don't have that right."
"Then why can't we do anything?"
"We don't have the right."
"I don't understand."
"Mrs. Tappman, people with force have a right to do anything we can't stop them from doing. That's the catch Albert and I found out about in the army. It's what's happening now."
A year or so earlier, he had lost his breath chasing a youth who had murdered someone in another part of the terminal, and he had not yet got it all back.
With his wife only, this sick man of Europe shared an additional secret, his absolute belief that nothing he, his colleagues, or any organization of experts could do would have any enduring corrective effect on the economic destiny of his continent or the Western world. Humans had little command over human events. History would follow its autonomous course independent of the people who made it.
