Inspirasi Kediri Bertutur

                                                                              • O’Shan. [Aside. Retreating.] I wish some one would come. I’ve heard he’s a raal hero. I’ll call for help. Holloa! there.
                                                                                Later, much later, he was awakened by a very soft murmuring that seemed to come from somewhere under the floor, but very, very far away. He identified it as a minute, spidery whispering that went on and on. But he could not make out any words and he finally put it down to the central-heating pipes, turned over, and went to sleep again.

                                                                                                                                                          • I do not conceive that this discovery gave me much pain then. I was still giddy with the shock of my mother's death, and in a kind of stunned state as to all tributary things. I can recollect, indeed, to have speculated, at odd times, on the possibility of my not being taught any more, or cared for any more; and growing up to be a shabby, moody man, lounging an idle life away, about the village; as well as on the feasibility of my getting rid of this picture by going away somewhere, like the hero in a story, to seek my fortune: but these were transient visions, daydreams I sat looking at sometimes, as if they were faintly painted or written on the wall of my room, and which, as they melted away, left the wall blank again.
                                                                                                                                                            As I write this book, immersed once more in the passions and savage deeds of contemporary mankind, hearing each day of horror and brutality, fearing that very soon some hideous disaster may fall upon my people and on the whole human race, and on those few who, being most dear to me, are for me the living presence of humanity, it is impossible for me to recapture fully the serene and intelligent mood of my post-mortal experience. For throughout that age-long future I must, I think, have been strengthened by the felt presence of other and superhuman spectators. Was it that the more lucid populations of the cosmos, in their scattered worlds, up and down the constellations, here and there among the galaxies, had sent observers to witness the terrestrial miracle; or had focused their attention and their presence from afar on our little orb, so forlorn, so inconsiderable, where man, poised between the light and the dark on the knife-edge of choice, fought out his destiny. It was as though, under their influence, I was able to put off to some extent my human pettiness; as though, haltingly and with celestial aid, I could see man’s double fate through the eyes of those superhuman but not divine intelligences. Their presence is now withdrawn. But in memory of them I shall do my utmost to tell the twofold story at once with intimate human sympathy and with something of that calm insight which was lent to me.

                                                                                                                                                            "It will take about five minutes to take it down and findsome boxes."Rosa looks sideways at him and frowns. "You don't havea new one in a box?""That might be hard to find right now." Tony's handsbecome fists, and he pops them into his pockets. -*56"They're such an unbelievable deal—they've just been flyingout of the store." He buttons up his jacket, shrugs hisshoulders and laughs nervously.


                                                                                                                                                            "Leck mich am Arsch." Krebs spat the obscene insult at him.
                                                                                                                                                            Bond at once relented. He put out a bandaged hand and laid it on her knee.

                                                                                                                                                            "Sometimes you can do it, and sometimes it's not there," continued Plimpton, leaning back in the desk chair at his Eastside apartment. "It's very hard to work alone. There's the television set, and all these books, and your son and daughter in the next room. Sometimes I have to get away. So I go to bars and I sit in a corner and write. You're trapped in there. There's nothing else to do but write."

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      • "You got yourself a good pal there," said the girl as they watched Leiter slam the door and heard the deep boom of the exhaust as he accelerated away on his long drive back into the desert.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  • "How about the gun? Am I supposed to take it through the German customs in a golfbag or something?"

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              • In the conflict of hemispheres, Australia and New Zealand must be counted in the American hemisphere, as they had long ago come under the American influence. During the struggle between the free peoples. and the empires the Americans had been relatively untouched. The North Americans had greatly changed since their tired Utopia had been annexed by the Russian Empire. Under the not very efficient tyranny which followed they discovered a new aim, namely to free themselves. A new generation of young people, sons and daughters of those earlier young who had welcomed the Russians, began to rediscover the virtue of the great American tradition. The heroes of the first American republic, Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, were once more, though secretly, studied and praised. A new but vigorous and underground current of individualism began to flow through North America. Once more the state, even in the Utopian form that had once existed in America, began to seem merely an unpleasant necessity. The Russian state was an unmitigated curse. Men lauded once more the virtues of individual enterprise and ingenuity, liberty and personal integrity.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          • "Want me to write it all out and sign it?"

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      • Hair : Auburn. Eyes : Blue. Height: 5 ft 7. Weight: 9 stone. Hips: 38. Waist: 26. Bust: 38. Distinguishing marks : Mole on upper curvature of right breast.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  • 'A Tartar,' said the man with the wooden leg.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              • The driver reached forward to the dashboard. From the front of the machine there sounded the brief howl of a police siren. It meandered into a dying moan. After a minute the machine stopped, idling in neutral. The man pressed a switca and took a microphone off a hook beside him. He spoke into it and Bond could hear the echoing voice of the loud-hailer outside. "Okay. Got the Limey and the girl. Other man's dead. That's the lot. Open up."