Yossarian was struck with a weird sense of distortion.
F.C. Wintergreen, who also wanted to be a general and who always distorted, destroyed, rejected or misdirected any correspondence by, for or about Colonel Cathcart that might do him credit.
Nothing warped seemed bizarre any more in his strange, distorted surroundings.
Her face — as beautiful as a blooming flower to him now — was distorted with a new kind of torture, the tissues serenely swollen, her half-closed eyes misty and unseeing with the stultifying languor of desire.