Inspirasi Kediri Bertutur

                                                After my irreparable loss, one of my earliest cares was to print and publish the treatise, so much of which was the work of her whom I had lost, and consecrate it to her memory. I have made no alteration or addition to it, nor shall I ever. Though it wants the last touch of her hand, no substitute for that touch shall ever be attempted by mine.
                                                "What is the act? What do you want me for?"

                                                                                              Of prating Fools, and Wits that ne'er were wise:
                                                                                              Chapter 19 “Ralph the Heir”
                                                                                              They say "YES!"Your body doesn't know how to lie. Unconsciously,with no directions from you, it transmits yourthoughts and feelings in a language of its own tothe bodies of other people, and these bodiesunderstand the language perfectly. Any contradictionsin the language can interrupt the developmentof rapport.
                                                                                              All this led me into some serious reflections, and presented our mistakes in a new aspect; as I could not help communicating to Dora one evening, in spite of my tenderness for her.


                                                                                              "Kamerad!" Bond raised his hands in mock surrender. He lowered them and turned to Tiffy. "Who is this man? A one-man takeover bid for Jamaica? Or a refugee from a circus? Ask him what he'd like to drink. Whoever he is, it was a good act." James Bond knew that he had very nearly pulled the trigger of the gun. Hit a gunman in his vanity. ... He had a quick vision of himself writhing on the floor, his right hand without the power to reach for his own weapon. Tiffy's pretty face was no longer pretty. It was a taut skull. She stared at James Bond. Her mouth opened but no sound came from the gaping lips. She liked him and she knew he was dead. The kling-klings, Joe and May, smelled the same electricity. With a tremendous din of metallic squawks, they fled for the open window, like black thieves escaping into the night.
                                                                                              Quarrel echoed his thoughts. "Dese is sly folks, cap'n. Dat man mus' of come sneakin' down soffly behind de udders to ketch us comin' out after de dawgs had passed. He sho is a sly mongoose, dat Doctor feller."
                                                                                              So I would not be surprised to learn that Scaramanga is not the Casanova of popular fancy. Passing to the wider implications of gunmanship, we enter the realms of the Adlerian power urge as compensation for the inferiority complex, and here I will quote some well-turned phrases of a certain Mr. Harold L. Peterson in his preface to his finely illustrated The Book of the Gun (published by Paul Hamlyn). Mr. Peterson writes:
                                                                                              At the electronics store, as Rosa hovers over the latestdesktop model from Megahype, a young salesman noticesthe ad in her hand and wanders over to her. He unbuttonshis jacket, spreads his hands out, palms up, and looks herin the eye. "I see you found it already," he says with asmile. "Hi, my name's Tony."For the next 10 minutes, a relaxed and sincere Tony talksto Rosa. He faces her with his hands exposed and leans forwardfrom time to time as they discuss the features of thecomputer. Rosa listens with interest, her head tilted to oneside and her hand on her cheek, as Tony offers to "throwin" of extras and even agrees to "eat the tax."Finally, stroking her chin as she forms a decision, Rosanods. "Yes," she says, "this is the model for me.""Great," says Tony, eagerly rubbing his palms together.
                                                                                              `I recommend the English Secret Service as the object of terrorist action,' he said decisively. `The devil knows my department hardly finds them a worthy adversary, but they are the best of an indifferent lot.'

                                                                                                                                            CHAPTER XIII DEAD RECKONING

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        Towards the end of February Miss Tucker went, with Mrs. Elmslie and two Bible-women, on her first itinerating expedition,鈥攏ot, as she herself said, to use her lips, but to use her eyes. Writing while away, she says:鈥擖/p>

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      'It's rather a bore always having to explain, but I was born in the evening, on a very stormy evening according to my parents. Apparently they wanted to remember it.' She smiled. 'Some people like it, others don't. I'm just used to it.'

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    'Well, ma'am, have YOU got anything to remark?'

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  In this same month of February, into which were crowded some of the most noteworthy of the closing events of the War, Charleston was evacuated as Sherman's army on its sweep northward passed back of the city. I am not sure whether the fiercer of the old Charlestonians were not more annoyed at the lack of attention paid by Sherman to the fire-eating little city in which four years back had been fired the gun that opened the War, than they would have been by an immediate and strenuous occupation. Sherman had more important matters on hand than the business of looking after the original fire-eaters. He was hurrying northward, close on the heels of Johnston, to prevent if possible the combination of Johnston's troops with Lee's army which was supposed to be retreating from Virginia.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                Crucial to the fate of the human race at this time was the attitude of the class of technicians, the host of highly trained engineers, electricians, aeronautical experts, agricultural experts, and scientific workers in industry. These, if they could have formed a clear idea of the plight of the race, might have saved it. But they were experts who had been carefully trained in the tradition that the expert should not meddle in politics. In times of great stress, of course, they did meddle; but, because they had consistently held themselves aloof, their pronouncements were childish, and their attempts at political action disastrous. A few had, indeed, taken the trouble to study society, and had come to understand its present ills. These fought constantly to enlighten their fellows and unite them in a great effort to control the course of events. Undoubtedly, if the will for the light had been strong in this great class, which controlled throughout the world all the innumerable levers and switches and press-buttons of the material life of society, it could have overthrown the world-oligarchy in a few days, and set about organizing a sane order. But the appeal to the technicians met with a half-hearted response. Most of them shrugged their shoulders and went on with their work. A few took timid action and were promptly seized and put to torture by the rulers. The movement failed.