"I am 47 years old, in excellent physical condition, of more than moderate wealth, of rubicund and mesomorphic physique but Saturnine disposition. I won houses in New York, London, Paris, and Calcutta; lodges in Scotland, New Mexico, the Cote d'Azur, Ceylon and Darjeeling; apartments in Moscow, Tokyo, San Francisco, Rio and Cairo. I own seven cars, a ranch in Argentina, 3000 acres of Maine timber, a palace in Iran, two yachts, four motor botes, a modest old Ford tri-motor, a houseboat on the Irrawady, a 37-foot limestone wall richly carved with Hindu fable, a moderately powerful radio station in Luristan, controlling interest in three small cheese companies and a middling oil cartel. I own no pets" (2).
"For in Fatima I wrote but three laws: Do Not Kill. Do Not Hurt People. Do Not Take What Isn't Yours" (8).
"I sailed uneventfully for several days, enjoying my first true leisure in years. By evening of the fifth day, it was apparent that the cook was insane; the red ink whipped with the mashed potatoes at lunch might have been an accident; the deep-fried cakes of breaded shoe polish served up for dinner made the thing unmistakable. The poor fellow was put ashore in convulsions at Villa Cisneros, and the captain hastily hired a Somali roustabout who could cook 'chickum'--but not hastily enough to keep his first-class passenger" (42).