Simon was delighted to be fifty-three, lean and aggressive except for his belly which was not lean and aggressive. He was youhan I. M. Pei, youhan Dizzy Gillespie, youhan the Pope. He had more wisdom packed in his little fihan was to be found iire Sweets catalog, with its pages of allurial moldings and fire-rated expansion joints. He had kept asbestos and asbestos-taining products out of every job he had ever worked on, sometimes at siderable cost. He had a daughter who would e into the kit at breakfast and say, "Whos got the goddamn New York Times?" Sarah did not wake well. He could spell 49,999 words correctly and make a pretty good stab at many of the rest. He had a Broar, courtesy of a clerk-typist in his unit whose gift for writing citations for routinely rotating personnel had been envied even at Corps level. The IRS regarded him as a cash cow, on a small scale, and regularly sent him loving salutations, including, one year, a box of Godiva chocol……（内容加载失败！）
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