Inspirasi Kediri Bertutur

                                                          • His was the awful sacrifice,

                                                                                                                  • "Why?"
                                                                                                                    Bond smiled non-committally. "One more question," he said. "If you wanted to sabotage the rocket what would be the easiest way?"
                                                                                                                    By th' Circles of the Circulating Blood,
                                                                                                                    Miss Moneypenny's expression conveyed nothing. It usually conveyed something if she knew something-private excitement, curiosity, or, if Bond was in trouble, encouragement or even anger. Now the smile of welcome showed disinterest. Bond registered that this was going to be some kind of a routine job, a bore, and he adjusted his entrance through that fateful door accordingly.
                                                                                                                    Since then, Larry and his brilliant wife, Sascha, have served as my agents and higher brainfunctions, teaching me how to turn a clutter of ideas into a legible proposal and yanking hard onthe choke chain whenever I miss deadlines. Without them, this book would still be just a tale I toldover beers.


                                                                                                                    鈥楢mritsar, Dec. 28, 1878.鈥擨 am sitting with my sweet Laura鈥檚 delicious quilt wrapped closely round my shoulders, for it is warmer than a shawl; and I am up before the fire-lighting period. Not being at home, I do not know how to light the fire myself.

                                                                                                                    鈥楾he Muhammadans too are so ready to stand up for their false faith; far more inclined to defend it than the Hindus are to defend theirs. Mera Bhatija was saying to-day that no book has been written against Christianity by a Hindu. I have myself, however, seen a very bitter article in a paper. But, generally speaking, the Muhammadans seem to be much sterner opponents of Truth than the Hindus. I feel it in the Zenanas.
                                                                                                                    'SHE love!' she said. 'THAT carrion! And he ever cared for her, she'd tell me. Ha, ha! The liars that these traders are!'

                                                                                                                                                                          • 'My dear Copperfield,' said Traddles, 'I have already done so, because I begin to feel that I have not only been inconsiderate, but that I have been positively unjust to Sophy. My word being passed to myself, there is no longer any apprehension; but I pledge it to you, too, with the greatest readiness. That first unlucky obligation, I have paid. I have no doubt Mr. Micawber would have paid it if he could, but he could not. One thing I ought to mention, which I like very much in Mr. Micawber, Copperfield. It refers to the second obligation, which is not yet due. He don't tell me that it is provided for, but he says it WILL BE. Now, I think there is something very fair and honest about that!'

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  • He was totally exhilarated by his hours with Marc-Ange in Marseilles and by the prospects before him - the job that was to be done and, at the end of it, Tracy.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          • Miss Lavinia then arose, and begging Mr. Traddles to excuse us for a minute, requested me to follow her. I obeyed, all in a tremble, and was conducted into another room. There I found my blessed darling stopping her ears behind the door, with her dear little face against the wall; and Jip in the plate-warmer with his head tied up in a towel.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  • I promised to obey, and went upstairs with my message; thinking, as I went, that if Mr. Dick had been working at his Memorial long, at the same rate as I had seen him working at it, through the open door, when I came down, he was probably getting on very well indeed. I found him still driving at it with a long pen, and his head almost laid upon the paper. He was so intent upon it, that I had ample leisure to observe the large paper kite in a corner, the confusion of bundles of manuscript, the number of pens, and, above all, the quantity of ink (which he seemed to have in, in half-gallon jars by the dozen), before he observed my being present.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          • Quarrel's eyes narrowed. His hand behind the girl's back turned slowly. The girl struggled like an eel, her teeth clenched on her lower lip. Quarrel went on twisting. Suddenly she said "Ow!" sharply and gasped, "I'll tell I" Quarrel eased his grip. The girl looked furiously at Bond: "Annabel Chung."

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  • Marc-Ange said, 'Did you get him?'

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          • The subject recalls involuntarily certain words uttered by Bishop French of Lahore,鈥斺€榦ur saintly Bishop,鈥 as Miss Tucker called him. When he was at home some years ago, and staying at Eastbourne, I happened to put to him a question bearing on this matter; and his reply was one not soon to be forgotten. He said: 鈥業t is no question out there of High Church and Low Church! It is a question simply of[378] Christianity and Heathenism!鈥 To this wide and comprehensive view Charlotte Tucker could not have fully subscribed. In her letters, from time to time, though not often, the subject crops up, and she expresses her fears strongly as to one individual or another. But it is noteworthy that when, soon after, she meets with the individual himself, her fears are usually quieted; and while conscious of differences on certain points, she is yet able fully to recognise鈥攁nd to recognise with delight鈥攔eal devotion of heart and life to the Service of the Master Whom she loved. No more unmistakable token can well exist of true large-heartedness. There was in her no innate love of controversy for its own sake; and though, as might be expected with one of her impulsive temperament, she sometimes expressed her views with energy, she did not love fighting, nor was she a violent partisan. As a general rule, her aim was rather to build up than to pull down.