Inspirasi Kediri Bertutur

                                                • 鈥楽UNSET,鈥 A. L. O. E.鈥橲 THREE-ROOMED HOUSE

                                                                                                •   Now I knew what Carl Lumholtz meant about Tarahumara men being so bashful that if it weren’tfor beer, the tribe would be extinct. “Incredible as it may sound,” Lumholtz had marveled, “I donot hesitate to state that in the ordinary course of his existence the uncivilised Tarahumare is toobashful and modest to enforce his matrimonial rights and privileges; and that by means of tesvinochiefly the race is kept alive and increasing.” Translation: Tarahumara men couldn’t even musterthe nerve to get romantic with their own wives if they didn’t drown their bashfulness in homebrew.
                                                                                                  Physiologically, being nervous and being excitedhave a lot in common: pounding heart, churning tummy,high chest breathing and the general jitters. But one ofthese states might send you hightailing it for the nearestdark corner while the other one can serve you well andpropel you forward. There is a tendency for panic toaccompany nervousness, and this quite naturally makesbodily activities speed up. Because much of your nervousnessstems from increased awareness, try redirectingsome of your awareness toward slowing downand being more deliberate. One great technique is toimagine that your nostrils are just below your naveland that your in-and-out breaths are happening down62there. The slower you are, within reason, the more incontrol you will appear.
                                                                                                  'A small carafe of vodka, very cold,' ordered Bond. He said to her abruptly: 'I can't drink the health of your new frock without knowing your Christian name.'
                                                                                                  Bond walked up to his room, which again showed no sign of trespass, threw off his clothes, took a long hot bath followed by an ice-cold shower and lay down on his bed. There remained an hour in which to rest and compose his thoughts before he met the girl in the Splendide bar, an hour to examine minutely the details of his plans for the game, and for after the game, in all the various circumstances of victory or defeat. He had to plan the attendant roles of Mathis, Leiter, and the girl and visualize the reactions of the enemy in various contingencies. He closed his eyes and his thoughts pursued his imagination through a series of carefully constructed scenes as if he was watching the tumbling chips of coloured glass in a kaleidoscope.
                                                                                                  The siren wailed and then screamed. The white mask gleamed as the man glanced over his shoulder. He braked slowly to a stop. His right hand went inside his jacket. Bond had his hand on the door-latch. He said, 'Watch out, Tiger, he's got a gun!' and, as they pulled up alongside, he hurled himself out of the door and crashed into the man, knocking him and his machine to the ground. The corporal beside the driver took a flying leap and the two bodies rolled into the ditch. Almost immediately the corporal got to his feet. He had a blood-stained knife in his hand. He threw it aside and tore at the man's coat and shirt. He looked up and shook his head. Tiger shouted something and the corporal began slapping the man's fece as hard as he could from side to side. The masko was knocked off and Bond recognized the snarling rictus of death. He said, sickened, 'Stop him, Tigerl The man's dead.'


                                                                                                  'You're a bloodthirsty old bastard, Tiger. But what's all this lecture about anyway? What's it got to do with friend Shatterhand and his pretty garden?'
                                                                                                  TERRIBLE ESPLOSIONE IN ISTANBUL
                                                                                                  Sit thee down, sit thee down, sit thee down, sit.
                                                                                                  'No, my dear Master Copperfield,' said she, 'far be it from my thoughts! But you have a discretion beyond your years, and can render me another kind of service, if you will; and a service I will thankfully accept of.'
                                                                                                  And then came a loud hammering on the door.

                                                                                                                                                • 'No. That was his nephew,' I replied; 'whom he adopted, though, as a son. He has a very pretty little niece too, whom he adopted as a daughter. In short, his house - or rather his boat, for he lives in one, on dry land - is full of people who are objects of his generosity and kindness. You would be delighted to see that household.'

                                                                                                                                                                                                • Bond stood against a tree, black in the blackness. He felt he should intervene in what he knew to be the man's purpose. But how to do so knowing no Japanese, having nothing but his 'deaf and dumb' card to show? And it was vital that he should remain a 'ghost' in the garden, not get involved in some daft argument with a man he didn't know, about some ancient sin he could never understand. So Bond stood, while the trees threw long black arms across the scene, and waited, with a cold, closed, stone face, for death to walk on stage.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                • The slow breakdown of communications had, of course, involved a constantly increasing infringement of the sacred formulae for international trade. In the heyday of the empire the provinces had been highly specialized for particular forms of agriculture, mining, and manufacture. Specialization had been encouraged by the early world-governments, for individuals, social classes, and peoples. Everything must be done to increase dependence on the imperial organization and the government. No region must be self-sufficient, no individual a person of all-round development. No one must ever be more than a cog in the great machine or a specialized cell in the great body politic. But now the failure of communications forced the peoples to change their whole economy or be extinguished. The great change was of course unplanned or misguided. The paucity of intelligence and the sanctity of the traditional economy made conscious planning impossible. New industries had to sprout in every region; but lack of inventiveness and organizing talent, and the universal condemnation of novelty, forced the pioneers to flounder along under a heavy cloak of subterfuge and self-deception. Inevitably the standard of living in each province deteriorated. Little by little the flood of mass-produced machine-made goods gave place to a miserable trickle of the crudest hand-made makeshifts produced by local craftsmen who were hampered not only by innate obtuseness, but by lack of all traditional technique, and also by the enervating sense that their occupation was sinful.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                • "We have solved the problem of your fine bars, Major-"

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                • He moved to go out. I said quickly, "I'll give you a hand." I hurried ahead of him, tugging furiously at my zip, feeling ashamed of how I must have looked. Blessedly, it suddenly yielded and I pulled it up to my throat.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                • "Of course. Wait till I get a pencil. Right."