Inspirasi Kediri Bertutur

                                            • ii. North America
                                              I smoothed his hair as maternally as I could, wondering how to escape from his embrace, yet at the same time being melted by the despair of this strong man and by his dependence on me. I tried to make my voice sound matter-of-fact. "Well, if you ask me, it was a lucky escape. Any girl as changeable as that would not have made you a good wife. There are many other better girls in Germany. Come on, Kurt," I struggled to sit up. "We'll go out to dinner and a cinema. It will take your mind off things. It's no good crying over spilt milk. Come on!" I freed myself rather breathlessly and we both got to our feet.

                                                                                      • Well, we went to the pub and got two bottles of gin and an armful of bitter lemon, and he insisted on paying for the gin so I paid for the lemon. He was rather tight in a pleasant way and explained that he'd been to another party before ours and that he'd been brought by a young married couple called Norman, who were friends of Susan's. He said his name was Derek Mallaby, but I didn't pay much attention as I was so anxious to get the drink back to the party. There were cheers as we came back up the stairs, but in fact the party had passed its peak and from then on people drifted away until there was nothing left but the usual hard core of particular friends, and characters who had nowhere to go for dinner. Then they too slowly broke up, including the Normans, who looked very nice and told Derek Mallaby that he would find the key under the mat, and Susan was suggesting that we go to the Popotte across the way, a place I didn't care for, when Derek Mallaby came and lifted my hair away from my ear and whispered rather hoarsely into it would I go slumming with him? So I said yes, largely, I think, because he was tall and because he had taken charge when I was stuck.
                                                                                        Chapter 4 Ireland — My First Two Novels
                                                                                        Another curious aspect of this degenerate culture was that, along with ‘the unconscious’, reason was deified; and this in spite of the bitter condemnation of the exercise of free intelligence. But sacred reason was nothing whatever like ordinary human reasoning. It was the occult rationality of the universe, forever inaccessible to man. Everything, it was said, had in the divine view its reason. Everything followed necessarily from the divine reason. In the human sphere free intelligence was an impious attempt to probe the divine reason. The true scope for man’s own divine spark of reason was not in the free exercise of intelligence but in the pious and unquestioning study of the metaphysical arguments of the inspired scriptures.


                                                                                        "Send him in. And tell the Armourer to come up in five minutes."
                                                                                        No matter what you do or where you live, the qualityof your attitude determines the quality of yourrelationships—not to mention just about everythingelse in your life.
                                                                                        He believes that Russian audiences are "the best public in the world. They don't applaud between the movements, like they do in New York. … It's always interesting to visit a place for the first time. I don't want to go to Russia so much anymore. We found out it's boring. There's nothing to do. And it's not much fun. There's no tipping, so the hotel service is very bad. It takes an hour to get breakfast; you can sit there and be completely ignored by the waiter. To make a telephone call: it's easier to go to the moon."
                                                                                        “Get him to hold off!” I shouted back.
                                                                                        'They've all agreed, sir. Just having their shots now. It won't take a minute, sir, if you'll come this way.'

                                                                                                                                •   But Salvador seemed totally unconcerned. He drove on through the woods, throatily butcheringsomething about a bra full of bad news named Maria. Suddenly, the song died in his mouth. Hesnapped off the tape player, his eyes fixed on a red Dodge pickup with smoked-black glass thathad just burst through the dust ahead of us.

                                                                                                                                                                          • She nodded solemnly. "I'll do my best."

                                                                                                                                                                                                                    • "Don't make any mistake about this job, 007," said M sharply. "When I say it may be tough, I'm not being melodramatic. There are plenty of tricky people you haven't met yet, and there may be some of them mixed up in this business. And some of the most efficient. So don't be tetchy when I think twice before getting you involved in it."

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              • They left the place and moved farther along to a small sandy clearing. Through the bushes they could see lights winking across the water from the mountain, perhaps two miles away. To the eastward there was nothing but the soft black sheen of water under the darkening sky.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        • “Sir — I have received your letter of the 3d inst., in which you tender your resignation as Surveyor in the Post Office service, and state as your reason for this step that you have adopted another profession, the exigencies of which are so great as to make you feel you cannot give to the duties of the Post Office that amount of attention which you consider the Postmaster-General has a right to expect.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  • "Well, you know they've been having a lot of trouble in Toronto. It's anyway a tough town, but now gang war has broken out in a big way, and you probably read that the Mounties even went so far as to call in two top C.I.D. sleuths from Scotland Yard to help them out. One of these C.I.D chaps had managed to plant a smart young Canadian in 'the Mechanics,' which is the name of the toughest Toronto gang, with affiliations over the border with Chicago and Detroit. And it was this young man who got wind of Uhlmann and what he wanted done. Well, I and my Mountie pals went to work and, to cut a long story short, we found out that it was Boris who was the target and that the Mechanics had agreed to do the job last Thursday-that's just about a week ago. Uhlmann had gone to ground, and we couldn't get a smell of him. All we could discover from our man with the Mechanics was that he had agreed to lead the murder squad that was to consist of three top gunmen from the mob. It was to be a frontal attack on the apartment where Boris lived. Nothing fancy. They were just going to blast their way through the front door with sub-machine-guns, shoot him to bits, and get away. It was to be at night, just before midnight, and the Mechanics would mount a permanent watch on the apartment house to see that Boris came home from his job and didn't go out again.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            • 'That's quite all right.' Bond felt there was something fishy in this. He couldn't put his finger on what it was.