|But spiritual life and appreciation of nature are important, too. That green blur whizzing by was Simpson Park. How many of my fellow MetroRail passengers had ever visited it? Behind those high fences stood the few remaining acres of Miami's virgin forest — tropical hardwood, dense undergrowth and solution holes — that had managed to escape the developers' bulldozers.
(On the way to an interview for a lucrative consulting job — Biotechnology is Murder, p. 21)
|Oh, how that Barbie Doll personified that $300,000 cabin cruiser. I've never had much use for Barbies. The sailing Betty is the exact opposite. Sailing Betty greets you with an open face and expressive eyes. She reminds of the girl you met at the last Sierra Club outing. When you ask her to tighten you jib line, she never complains about busting her fingernails. She never puts on airs. And she always holds up her end of the conversation.
(Thoughts while reviewing patent files in a high-rise office building overlooking Biscayne Bay — Biotechnology is Murder, p. 140)
|My chain cocoon skipped a couple inches, then came to a stop. Then the anchor slipped and hit me in the chin. I used all my strength for another sit-up and let go. Clanked overboard and hit the water faster than I could gasp my for my last breath. Tried to twirl against the wrap of the chain as I sank. ...
(Ben fighting for his life in Biotechnology is Murder, p. 242)
|The gentle offshore breeze pointed the stern of the boat toward shore. High tide had been at seven o'clock. A one-half knot, outgoing tide was gently struggling against a 10-knot incoming breeze, causing the anchored boat to drift from side to side, shifting about 90 degrees like a pendulum with two-minute swings. How many nights had I spend gazing out over the stern, sailing on anchor, just as now?
(Ben mulling over Dr. Westley's proposition in Pharmacology is Murder, p. 40)