Inspirasi Kediri Bertutur

                                                    "Well, I'm sorry, but I'll have to put that in my report too. You had clear orders to exterminate Trigger."
                                                    鈥楲ater.鈥擨 have come home from church, from receiving the Holy Communion. Thank God, the sheaves are being gathered in! What would dear Henry Martyn not have given to have seen what I saw to-day? So many Natives remained to share the holy Feast, men and women, young and old,鈥攊n our little church there must have been nearly if not quite fifty communicants. I received the Cup from the hand of a Native. I felt the scene quite affecting. It is a great privilege to be in India, and specially now, when the blades are ripening,鈥攖hough, oh, how few in number, compared with the Muhammadans and heathen!

                                                                                                      There is a tendency to apply the term "miraculous" to the career of every hero, and in a sense such description is, of course, true. The life of every man, however restricted its range, is something of a miracle; but the course of a single life, like that of humanity, is assuredly based on a development that proceeds from a series of causations. Holmes says that the education of a man begins two centuries before his birth. We may recall in this connection that Lincoln came of good stock. It is true that his parents belonged to the class of poor whites; but the Lincoln family can be traced from an eastern county of England (we might hope for the purpose of genealogical harmony that the county was Lincolnshire) to Hingham in Massachusetts, and by way of Pennsylvania and Virginia to Kentucky. The grandfather of our Abraham was killed, while working in his field on the Kentucky farm, by predatory Indians shooting from the cover of the dense forest. Abraham's father, Thomas, at that time a boy, was working in the field where his father was murdered. Such an incident in Kentucky simply repeated what had been going on just a century before in Massachusetts, at Deerfield and at dozens of other settlements on the edge of the great forest which was the home of the Indians. During the hundred years, the frontier of the white man's domain had been moved a thousand miles to the south-west and, as ever, there was still friction at the point of contact.
                                                                                                      Suddenly Bond knew what the glance had meant, who the man was. Of course! This man was from the Service. After all M had decided to send along an extra hand. That was the message of those queer eyes. Bond would bet anything that the man would soon be along to make contact.
                                                                                                      There was a ravine and an S turn over a bridge. They were coming out of the first curve over the bridge. Lights blazed at them from across the ravine. There was half a mile between the two cars, but the range across the ravine was perhaps only three hundred yards. Bond wasn't surprised to see the familiar blue flames flutter from the front of the car. Chips of granite from the overhang splattered down on the bonnet of the car. Then they were into the second half of the S bend and out of sight of their pursuers.


                                                                                                      Ann was like a circus strongman who fights the toughest guy in any town: she won on roads andtrails … on smooth tracks and scrabbly mountains … in America, Europe, and Africa. Shesmashed world records at 50 miles, 100 kilometers, and 100 miles, and set ten more world bests onboth track and road. She qualified for the Olympic Marathon Trials, ran 6:44 a mile for 62 miles towin the World Ultra Title, and then won Western States and Leadville in the same month.
                                                                                                      Drax cut in, "I suppose your guest knows what he's in for?" he asked sharply.
                                                                                                      Before the Tarahumara run long, they get strong. And if I wanted to stay healthy, Eric warned me,I’d better do likewise. So instead of stretching before a run, I got right to work. Lunges, pushups,jump squats, crunches; Eric had me powering through a half hour of raw strength drills every otherday, with nearly all of them on a fitness ball to sharpen my balance and fire those supportiveancillary muscles. As soon as I finished, it was off to the hills. “There’s no sleepwalking your wayup a hill,” Eric pointed out. Long climbs were an exercise in shock and awe, forcing me to focuson form and shift gears like a Tour de France cyclist. “Hills are speedwork in disguise,” FrankShorter used to say.

                                                                                                                                                        Tiger Tanaka's face darkened perceptibly. 'For the time being,' he said with distaste, 'we are being subjected to what I can best describe as the "Scuola di Coca-Cola". Baseball, amusement arcades, hot dogs, hideously large bosoms, neon lighting - these are the part of our payment for defeat in battle. They are the tepid tea of the way of life we know under the name of demokorasu. They are a frenzied denial of the official scapegoats for our defeat - a denial of the spirit of the samurai as expressed in the kami-kaze, a denial of our ancestors, a denial of our gods. They are a despicable way of life' - Tiger almost spat the words - 'but fortunately they are also expendable and temporary. They have as much importance in the history of Japan as the life of a dragonfly.' He paused. 'But to return to my story. Our American residents are of a sympathetic type - on a low level of course. They enjoy the subservience, which I may say is only superficial, of our women. They enjoy the remaining strict patterns of our life - the symmetry, compared with the chaos that reigns in America. They enjoy our simplicity, with its underlying hint of deep meaning, as expressed for instance in the tea ceremony, flower arrangements, NO plays - none of which of course they understand. They also enjoy, because they have no ancestors and probably no family life worth speaking of, our veneration of the old and our worship of the past. For, in their impermanent world, they recognize these as permanent things just as, in their ignorant and childish way, they admire the fictions of the Wild West and other American myths that have become known to them, not through their education, of which they have none, but through television.'

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            'Is that far, sir?' I diffidently asked.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                Though the degenerate species was no longer capable of revival, it did at last attain a condition of equilibrium. The scanty world-population, scattered throughout the continents in little isolated groups persisted probably for half a million years. Floods, climatic changes, volcanic eruptions, land subsidence, plagues, might now and again wipe out whole tribes, but their place would sooner or later be taken by others. Man had found his appropriate niche in the natural system of the planet’s fauna. Generation after generation he survived. His sluggish wits were wholly occupied in the tasks of food-gathering, the maintenance of crude shelters, reproduction, and the performing of traditional rites.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  He glanced at the bottles and was surprised to see that one contained nembutal sleeping-pills. Perhaps her nerves had been more shaken by the events at the villa than he had imagined.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    Food editor of the New York Times