“I have also told them not to work for companies which make massacre machinery, and to express contempt for people who think we need machinery like that.”
― Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five
“That was an ordinary way for a patriotic American to talk back then. It’s hard to believe how sick of war we used to be.[...]We used to call armaments manufacturers “Merchants of Death.”
Can you imagine that?
Nowadays, of course, just about our only solvent industry is the merchandising of death, bankrolled by our grandchildren, so that the message of our principal art forms, movies and television and political speeches and newspaper columns, for the sake of the economy, simply has to be this: War is hell, all right, but the only way a boy can become a man is in a shoot-out of some kind, preferably, but by no means necessarily, on a battlefield.”
― Kurt Vonnegut
“Why don’t you write an anti-glacier book instead?’
What he meant, of course, was that there would always be wars, that they were as easy to stop as glaciers. I believe that too.”
― Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five
“Be careful what you pretend to be because you are what you pretend to be.”
― Kurt Vonnegut
“Well, I know,” she said. “You’ll pretend you were men instead of babies, and you’ll be played in the movies by Frank Sinatra and John Wayne or some of those other glamorous, war-loving, dirty old men. And war will look just wonderful, so we’ll have a lot more of them. And they’ll be fought by babies like the babies upstairs.”
So then I understood. It was war that made her so angry. She didn’t want her babies or anybody else’s babies killed in wars. And she thought wars were partly encouraged by books and movies.
So I held up my right hand and I made her a promise: “Mary,” I said, “I don’t think this book of mine will ever be finished. I must have written five thousand pages by now, and thrown them all away. If I ever do finish it, though, I give you my word of honor: there won’t be a part for Frank Sinatra or John Wayne.
“I tell you what,” I said, “I’ll call it ‘The Children’s Crusade.’”
She was my friend after that.”
― Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five
― Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five
“That was an ordinary way for a patriotic American to talk back then. It’s hard to believe how sick of war we used to be.[...]We used to call armaments manufacturers “Merchants of Death.”
Can you imagine that?
Nowadays, of course, just about our only solvent industry is the merchandising of death, bankrolled by our grandchildren, so that the message of our principal art forms, movies and television and political speeches and newspaper columns, for the sake of the economy, simply has to be this: War is hell, all right, but the only way a boy can become a man is in a shoot-out of some kind, preferably, but by no means necessarily, on a battlefield.”
― Kurt Vonnegut
“Why don’t you write an anti-glacier book instead?’
What he meant, of course, was that there would always be wars, that they were as easy to stop as glaciers. I believe that too.”
― Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five
“Be careful what you pretend to be because you are what you pretend to be.”
― Kurt Vonnegut
“Well, I know,” she said. “You’ll pretend you were men instead of babies, and you’ll be played in the movies by Frank Sinatra and John Wayne or some of those other glamorous, war-loving, dirty old men. And war will look just wonderful, so we’ll have a lot more of them. And they’ll be fought by babies like the babies upstairs.”
So then I understood. It was war that made her so angry. She didn’t want her babies or anybody else’s babies killed in wars. And she thought wars were partly encouraged by books and movies.
So I held up my right hand and I made her a promise: “Mary,” I said, “I don’t think this book of mine will ever be finished. I must have written five thousand pages by now, and thrown them all away. If I ever do finish it, though, I give you my word of honor: there won’t be a part for Frank Sinatra or John Wayne.
“I tell you what,” I said, “I’ll call it ‘The Children’s Crusade.’”
She was my friend after that.”
― Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five
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