Inspirasi Kediri Bertutur

                                                                        • When, at nine o'clock, he awoke and threw open his windows, the sky was overcast with the heavy blank grey that meant snow. Over by the Berghaus, the Schneefinken, and Schneevogel, the snow-finches and Alpine choughs, that lived on the crumbs and left-overs of the picnickers, were fluttering and swooping close round the building - a sure storm-warning. The wind had got up and was blowing in sharp, threatening gusts, and no whine of machinery came from the cable railway. The light aluminium gondolas would have too bad a time in winds of this strength, particularly over the last great swoop of cable that brought them a good quarter of a mile over the exposed shoulder beneath the plateau.
                                                                          When I left Harrow I was all but nineteen, and I had at first gone there at seven. During the whole of those twelve years no attempt had been made to teach me anything but Latin and Greek, and very little attempt to teach me those languages. I do not remember any lessons either in writing or arithmetic. French and German I certainly was not taught. The assertion will scarcely be credited, but I do assert that I have no recollection of other tuition except that in the dead languages. At the school at Sunbury there was certainly a writing master and a French master. The latter was an extra, and I never had extras. I suppose I must have been in the writing master’s class, but though I can call to mind the man, I cannot call to mind his ferule. It was by their ferules that I always knew them, and they me. I feel convinced in my mind that I have been flogged oftener than any human being alive. It was just possible to obtain five scourgings in one day at Winchester, and I have often boasted that I obtained them all. Looking back over half a century, I am not quite sure whether the boast is true; but if I did not, nobody ever did.

                                                                                                                                              • Elliott.

                                                                                                                                                She absentmindedly looked at her finger-nails and then stretched her two hands out with their backs towards her. How often in the course of her training at the Police College had she been sent out among the other pupils and told not to come back without a pocketbook, a vanity case, a fountain pen, even a wristwatch? How often during the courses had the instructor whipped round and caught her wrist with a 'Now, now, Miss. That won't do at all. Might have been an elephant looking for sugar in the keeper's pocket. Try again.' Coolly she flexed her fingers and then, her mind made up, turned back to the pile of letters.
                                                                                                                                                We were silent again, and remained so, until the Doctor rose and walked twice or thrice across the room. Presently he returned to where his chair stood; and, leaning on the back of it, and occasionally putting his handkerchief to his eyes, with a simple honesty that did him more honour, to my thinking, than any disguise he could have effected, said:
                                                                                                                                                Gala Brand walked back into her own office and started slitting open the letters. Only two more flight plans, for Thursday and Friday and then, on her figures or on a different set, the set in Drax's pocket, the gyros would be finally adjusted and the switch would be pulled in the firing point.


                                                                                                                                                'For this gentleman?' said Mrs. Crupp, feeling in her pocket for her keys.
                                                                                                                                                鈥業 am sorry to say my visit must be limited to a sojourn with you from Friday, 30th January, to Tuesday, February 3, as the Ajnala work hedges me in behind, and Lahore and Amritsar Confirmations before. May I ask your special prayers, lest this rather overpowering crush of work may not impair strength of mind or tone of spirit, both of which I have a little reason to dread at this season? It is a comfort to know and to be assured that our Faithful Lord will 鈥渟tablish and keep us from evil.鈥 May His peace, and love with faith, be our portion; and then in the storm we may sing our watchword, 鈥淎ll well.鈥濃€擨 am, yours, with ever affectionate and grateful regards,
                                                                                                                                                The cotton fabric at Bond's knees and elbows had burned away. Numbly his mind registered the moisture as his blisters burst against the cool metal. As he moved, he flexed his fingers -and toes, testing the pain. Slowly he got the measure of what he could do, what hurt most. This pain is supportable, he argued to himself. If I had been in an aeroplane crash, they would only diagnose superficial contusions and burns. I would be out of hospital in a few days. There's nothing wrong with, me. I'm a survivor from the crash. It hurts, but it's nothing. Think of the bits and pieces of the other passengers. Be thankful. Put it out of your mind. But, nagging behind these reflections, was the knowledge that he had not yet had the crash-that he was still on his way towards it, his resistance, his effectiveness reduced. When would it come? What shape would it take? How much more was he to be softened up before he reached the killing ground?
                                                                                                                                                鈥楳ay 12, 1887. ... (List of names.) Except 鈥斺€斺€榮 house, none really satisfactory. My heart very sad. The
                                                                                                                                                'He comes to the office downstairs, every day,' returned Agnes. 'He was in London a week before me. I am afraid on disagreeable business, Trotwood.'

                                                                                                                                                                                                                    • Charles. [Aside.] One struggle for life. [Aloud.] Beware, fellow, I have arms. [Aside.] None but what nature gave me.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          • The priest would invite the Suzuki family to accord him an honourable welcome. Bond would be explained away to the elders as a famous gaijin anthropologist who had come to study the Ama way of life. Bond should therefore study it, but the priest requested that Bond should behave in a sincere manner. 'Which means,' explained Tiger with a malicious grin,'that you are not to go to bed with the girls.'

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                • It was at this point in my quest that I came across theearly work of Drs. Richard Bandler and John Grinder atUCLA in a subject with the unwieldy name of Neuro-Linguistic Programming, NLP for short. Many of thethings I had been doing intuitively as a photographer,these two men and their colleagues had documentedand analyzed as "the art and science of personal excellence."Among a fountain of new insights, they revealedthat everyone has a "favorite sense." Find this sense andyou have the key to unlock a person's heart and mind.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      •   Drug runners. Salvador edged as close as he could to the cliff edge on our right and eased evenfurther back on the gas, dropping deferentially from the ten miles per hour we’d been averagingdown to a dead halt, granting the big red Dodge every bit of road he could spare.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            • "Cross my heart."

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  • The key to establishing rapport with strangers isto learn how to become like them. Fortunately,this is both very simple and a lot of fun to do. Itallows you to look on each new encounter as apuzzle, a game, a joy.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        • I have never written three novels in a year, but by following the plan above described I have written more than as much as three volumes; and by adhering to it over a course of years, I have been enabled to have always on hand — for some time back now — one or two or even three unpublished novels in my desk beside me. Were I to die now there are three such besides The Prime Minister, half of which has only yet been issued. One of these has been six years finished, and has never seen the light since it was first tied up in the wrapper which now contains it. I look forward with some grim pleasantry to its publication after another period of six years, and to the declaration of the critics that it has been the work of a period of life at which the power of writing novels had passed from me. Not improbably, however, these pages may be printed first.