Inspirasi Kediri Bertutur

                              • Traddles and I both expressed, by a feeling murmur, that this great discovery was no doubt true of Mr. Micawber, and that it did him much credit.

                                                            • So that explained it, thought Bond. That was why he had heard nothing from Mr Spang or his friends all through the day. Friday, and they would all be out at the boss's place playing trains, while he had swum and slept and hung about the Tiara all day waiting for something to happen. It was true that he had caught an occasional eye shifting away from his, and there had always been a servant of some sort, or one of the uniformed sheriffs, hanging about in his neighbourhood, rather elaborately doing nothing in particular, but otherwise Bond might have been just any one of the hotel guests.
                                                              No words can express the secret agony of my soul as I sunk into this companionship; compared these henceforth everyday associates with those of my happier childhood - not to say with Steerforth, Traddles, and the rest of those boys; and felt my hopes of growing up to be a learned and distinguished man, crushed in my bosom. The deep remembrance of the sense I had, of being utterly without hope now; of the shame I felt in my position; of the misery it was to my young heart to believe that day by day what I had learned, and thought, and delighted in, and raised my fancy and my emulation up by, would pass away from me, little by little, never to be brought back any more; cannot be written. As often as Mick Walker went away in the course of that forenoon, I mingled my tears with the water in which I was washing the bottles; and sobbed as if there were a flaw in my own breast, and it were in danger of bursting.


                                                              'That only I would occupy this vacant place.'
                                                              Scull. You see, Ma’am, there is a new work to come out at Christmas, which is to be entitled,—The Mouse on the Mantelpiece. The letterpress is in very able hands,—a very pretty little fairy-tale for grown-up children,—that’s all the rage now, you know, in this enlightened age. But the illustrations will be the great thing. A steel-plate frontispiece, of course, in which will be introduced a number of winged mice in a variety of positions,—a very clever thing, I can assure you; and then wood-cuts,—I have the honour of being intrusted with the designs for them. We are to have a different illustration for the top of every column.
                                                              Frequently I look around at my audiences and recognizepeople who have heard me talk before. I recognizethem because they have "the look of recognition" ontheir face when they see me. It's a look, or even an attitude,of silent anticipation that any minute I'll recognizethem. Well, this look can work wonders—from time totime—with people you haven't met before. If you're onyour own, try it out right now. Let your mouth openslightly in a smile as your eyebrows arch and your headtilts back a little with anticipation as you look directlyat an imaginary person. A variation is to tilt your headas you look slightly away and then look back at the personwith the bare minimum of a frown and/or pursedlips. Practice. Then give it a try. Be as subtle as you possiblycan.
                                                              'Miss Murdstone,' I returned, 'I think you and Mr. Murdstone used me very cruelly, and treated my mother with great unkindness. I shall always think so, as long as I live. But I quite agree in what you propose.'
                                                              Vesper looked at him thoughtfully.

                                                                                          • As I walked to and fro daily between Southwark and Blackfriars, and lounged about at meal-times in obscure streets, the stones of which may, for anything I know, be worn at this moment by my childish feet, I wonder how many of these people were wanting in the crowd that used to come filing before me in review again, to the echo of Captain Hopkins's voice! When my thoughts go back, now, to that slow agony of my youth, I wonder how much of the histories I invented for such people hangs like a mist of fancy over well-remembered facts! When I tread the old ground, I do not wonder that I seem to see and pity, going on before me, an innocent romantic boy, making his imaginative world out of such strange experiences and sordid things!

                                                                                                                        • Doctor No said equably, "So is beauty, Mister Bond. So is art, so is money, so is death. And so* probably, is life. These concepts are relative. Your play upon words does not shake me. I know philosophy, I know ethics, and I know logic-better than you do, I daresay. But let us move away from this sterile debate. Let us return to where I began, with my mania for power, or, if you wish it, for the illusion of power. And please, Mister Bond," again the extra crease in the fixed smile, '"please do not imagine that half an hour's conversation with you will alter the pattern of my life. Interest yourself rather in the history of my pursuit, let us put it, of an illusion."

                                                                                                                                                                                    • 13 I might also say American publishers, if I might count them by the number of heads, and not by the amount of work done by the firms.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                  • Barbara. If you would only hold your tongue!

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                • This letter contained allusions to the death of Lady L?, worded in a style which made it appear but too probable, that there has been some foul play.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              • Master's, category, designed for racing. Bond remembered reading somewhere that the Standard model was inclined to 'float' at speed. His choice had the Attenhofer Flex forward release with the Marker lateral release. Two transverse leather thongs wound round the ankle and buckled over the instep would, if he fell, which he was certain to do, ensure against losing a ski.