Inspirasi Kediri Bertutur

                                  • 'Darling, the bath's absolutely right. Will you marry me?'
                                    This time, he thought, there could be no doubt about it. This stone also had the thirty-two facets above and the twenty-four below of the brilliant-cut, and it was also about twenty carats, but what he now held had a heart of blue-white flame, and the infinite colours reflected and refracted from its depths lanced into his eye like needles. With his left hand he picked up the quartz dummy and held it beside the diamond in front of his glass. It was a lifeless chunk of matter, almost opaque beside the dazzling translucence of the diamond, and the rainbow colours he had seen a few minutes before were now coarse and muddy.

                                                                  • Or some debauch'd Pretender to lewd Wit,
                                                                    "Come in. Come in. Take a pew. Cigarette? Not the ones I seem to remember you favour. Just the good old Senior Service."
                                                                    Bond paid his green-fee to Hampton, the steward, and went into the changing-room. It was just the same - the same tacky smell of old shoes and socks and last summer's sweat. Why was it a tradition of the most famous golf clubs that their standard of hygiene should be that of a Victorian private school? Bond changed his socks and put on the battered old pair of nailed Saxones. He took off the coat of his yellowing black and white hound's tooth suit and pulled on a faded black wind-cheater. Cigarettes? Lighter? He was ready to go
                                                                    Bond laughed. 'When I'm . . . er . . . concentrating,' he explained, 'I never have more than one drink before dinner. But I do like that one to be large and very strong and very cold and very well-made. I hate small portions of anything, particularly when they taste bad. This drink's my own invention. I'm going to patent it when I can think of a good name.'
                                                                    Doctor No coughed delicately. He looked from Bond to the girl and back again, "And that, my friends, is my story-or rather the first chapter of what I am confident will be a long and interesting tale. Privacy has been re-established. There are now no reseate spoonbills, so there will be no wardens. No doubt the Audubon .Society will decide to accept my offer for the rest of their lease. No matter. If they start their puny operations again, other misfortunes will befall them. This has been a warning to me. There will be no more interference."


                                                                    "Want me to write it all out and sign it?"
                                                                    M. paused and looked down at his notes.
                                                                    `Farewell, Mister Bond.'
                                                                    But the main resources of Tibet were the people themselves. A pacific, industrious, and sturdy folk, they had been encouraged to regard themselves not as a backward race doomed to succumb to foreign powers, but as the custodians of the ancient wisdom in a period of worldwide darkness. Some of their recent leaders had suggested also that the Tibetan people must now become the pioneers of a new and comprehensive wisdom in which ancient and modern should be combined more significantly than was possible, for instance, in the depraved communities of Russia and China.

                                                                                                  • "And there's one more thing," concluded M. "And this is the real reason why I've let myself get involved instead of keeping clear of the whole business. This has got to take priority over everything." M.'s voice was very quiet. "They're going to fire the Moonraker on Friday. Less than four days' time. Practice shoot."

                                                                                                                                  • The Identicast is a machine for building up an approximate picture of a suspect - or of someone who has perhaps only been glimpsed in a street or a train or in a passing car. It works on the magic lantern principle. The operator flashes on the screen various head-shapes and sizes. When one is recognized it stays on the screen. Then various haircuts are shown, and then all the other features follow and are chosen one by one - different shapes of eyes, noses, chins, mouths, eyebrows, cheeks, ears. In the end there is the whole picture of a face, as near as the scanner can remember it, and it is photographed and put on record.

                                                                                                                                                                                                  • I hurried back from Brussels to Bruges on my way to London, and found that the number of invalids had been increased. My younger sister, Emily, who, when I had left the house, was trembling on the balance — who had been pronounced to be delicate, but with that false-tongued hope which knows the truth, but will lie lest the heart should faint, had been called delicate, but only delicate — was now ill. Of course she was doomed. I knew it of both of them, though I had never heard the word spoken, or had spoken it to any one. And my father was very ill — ill to dying, though I did not know it. And my mother had decreed to send my elder sister away to England, thinking that the vicinity of so much sickness might be injurious to her. All this happened late in the autumn of 1834, in the spring of which year we had come to Bruges; and then my mother was left alone in a big house outside the town, with two Belgian women-servants, to nurse these dying patients — the patients being her husband and children — and to write novels for the sustenance of the family! It was about this period of her career that her best novels were written.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  • Felix Leiter chuckled. "Come on, lovebirds," he said, looking at his watch. "We ought to get going. I've got to get back to Vegas tonight and start looking for the skeleton of our old dumb friend Shy Smile. And you've got your plane to catch. You can go on fighting at twenty thousand feet. Get a better perspective from there. May even decide to make up and be friends. You know how they say." He beckoned to the waiter. "Nothing pro-pinks like propinquity."

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  • “No idea. I’m going to look for him.”