Why you? Why us for that matter? Why anything? Because this moment simply is. Have you ever seen bugs trapped in amber?
Catalog
Kurt Vonnegut
Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. (/kɜːrt ˈvʌnəɡət/; November 11, 1922 – April 11, 2007) was an American writer. In a career spanning over 50 years, Vonnegut published 14 novels, three short story collections, five plays, and five works of non-fiction. He is most famous for his darkly satirical, best-selling novel Slaughterhouse-Five (1969). Born and raised in Indianapolis, Indiana, Vonnegut attended Cornell University, but dropped out in January 1943 and enlisted in the United States Army. As part of his training, he studied mechanical engineering at Carnegie Institute of Technology (now Carnegie Mellon University) and the University of Tennessee. He was then deployed to Europe to fight in World War II, and was captured by the Germans during the Battle of the Bulge. He was interned in Dresden and survived the Allied bombing of the city by taking refuge in a meat locker of the slaughterhouse where he was imprisoned. After the war, Vonnegut married Jane Marie Cox, with whom he had three children. He later adopted his sister's three sons, after she died of cancer and her husband died in a train acciden
So it goes.
It was very exciting for her, taking his dignity away in the name of love.
Ignore the awful times, and concentrate on the good ones.
Like so many Americans, she was trying to construct a life that made sense from things she found in gift shops.
How nice— to feel nothing, and still get full credit for being alive.
They were adored by the Germans, who thought they were exactly what Englishmen ought to be. They made war look stylish and reasonable, and fun.
There in the hospital, Billy was having an adventure very common among people without power in time of war: He was trying to prove to a willfully deaf and blind enemy that he was interesting to hear and see.
The boots fit perfectly. Billy Pilgrim was Cinderella, and Cinderella was Billy Pilgrim.
He is in a constant state of stage fright, he says, because he never knows what part of his life he is going to have to act in next.
When food came in, the human beings were quiet and trusting and beautiful. They shared.
It is so short and jumbled and jangled, Sam, because there is nothing intelligent to say about a massacre. Everybody is supposed to be dead, to never say anything or want anything ever again. Everything is supposed to be very quiet after a massacre, and it always is, except for the birds.
They had both found life meaningless, partly because of what they had seen in war.
America is the wealthiest nation on Earth, but its people are mainly poor, and poor Americans are urged to hate themselves.
All this responsibility at such an early age made her a bitchy flibbertigibbet.
What should young people do with their lives today? Many things, obviously. But the most daring thing is to create stable communities in which the terrible disease of loneliness can be cured.
How's the patient? Dead to the world But not actually dead? No How nice–to feel nothing and still get credit for being alive.
All time is all time. It does not change. It does not lend itself to warnings or explanations. It simply is. Take it moment by moment, and you will find that we are all, as I've said before, bugs in amber.
All moments, past, present and future, always have existed, always will exist.
All this happened, more or less.