Inspirasi Kediri Bertutur

                                                                                            A FARCE OF GIRLISH DAYS

                                                                                                                                                                                    Mr. Murdstone, with an impatient, even an angry gesture, resumed, without noticing what he had said:
                                                                                                                                                                                    These feverish thoughts were born of the intoxication of the food and of eating it alone behind the barricade of the counter. For a few moments I was back in the old life. So, lightheadedly, and to hug the moment to me, I lit the cigarette.
                                                                                                                                                                                    "I'll tell you when there's none left," said Bond. He suddenly decided to be ruthless. "I'm told that Five and Five is your limit. Let's play for that."
                                                                                                                                                                                    It was two weeks later that I got the letter. I had written twice, but there had been no answer. In desperation I had even telephoned, but the man at the other end had gone away and come back and said that Mr. Mallaby wasn't at home.
                                                                                                                                                                                    "Hello, Mac." The girl smiled up at him. "Tiara's going along okay." She glanced round the packed room. "Seems your little hot dog stand ain't doing too badly."


                                                                                                                                                                                    The face behind the glass window slats was grinning. Perhaps the teeth were bared, like an animal's, with effort. The moon glistened off the teeth and off the eyes and off the top of the hairless head to make a kind of child's sketch of a face.
                                                                                                                                                                                    The sooner you start telling yourself that you'reexcited rather than nervous, the sooner you'll be able toconvince your subconscious that this is actually howyou feel. And, in fact, that's really all that matters.
                                                                                                                                                                                    As it was still day-light some of the ladies walked to the gardens, others strolled about near the doors; Lady Susan disappeared without speaking to any one; Frances went to seek her; Julia flung herself on a sofa in the great drawing-room, which she found quite deserted. She lay so much absorbed by her own meditations, as to be unconscious of the lapse of time. It became quite dark. Every thing was still about her. At length she heard a[120] very soft step approaching through the ante-room, and a figure in black appeared within the door, which was half open. It held in its hand a long white wand tipped with flame: it glided on with a step, now that it was on the deep Turkey carpet of the drawing-room, quite noiseless: it touched branches and candelabras with its magic wand, and left floods of light behind it: it proceeded through the glass doors of a green-house, at the further end of this spacious apartment, and continued crowning with radiance lustres that hung, at certain intervals, over the centre walk, till the whole long perspective became a dazzling maze of real and reflected illumination. Julia’s eyes admired and, mechanically, followed what they beheld long before her comprehension was aroused to any understanding of what was going forward: at length she smiled as she[121] recollected that such had been her abstraction, that, for the first few moments after the entrance of the figure, she had viewed it and its operations with as much of almost superstitious astonishment as if she had never before seen a decent old butler, who was too well-bred to wear creaking shoes, light up a drawing-room.

                                                                                                                                                                                    'If any drop of gloom were wanting in the overflowing cup, which is now "commended" (in the language of an immortal Writer) to the lips of the undersigned, it would be found in the fact, that a friendly acceptance granted to the undersigned, by the before-mentioned Mr. Thomas Traddles, for the sum Of 23l 4s 9 1/2d is over due, and is NOT provided for. Also, in the fact that the living responsibilities clinging to the undersigned will, in the course of nature, be increased by the sum of one more helpless victim; whose miserable appearance may be looked for - in round numbers - at the expiration of a period not exceeding six lunar months from the present date.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            His hands and his mouth were slow and electric, and his body in my arms was tenderly fierce.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    He caught a glimpse of the tip of his spear lancing into the centre of a black eyeball and then the whole sea erupted up at him in a fountain of blackness and he fell and hung upside down by the knees, his head an inch from the surface of the water.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            It was a Type 300 S, the sports model with a disappearing hood-one of only half a dozen in England, he reflected. Left-hand drive. Probably bought in Germany. He had seen a few of them over there. One had hissed by him on the Munich Autobahn the year before when he was doing a solid -ninety in the Bentley. The body, too short and heavy to be graceful, was painted white, with red leather upholstery. Garish for England, but Bond guessed that Drax had chosen white in honour of the famous Mercedes-Benz racing colours that had already swept the board again since the war at Le Mans and the Nurburgring.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            Perfect! It was playing out exactly as David had predicted. The antelope weren’t getting enoughtime to cool off before David and Scott were yip-yip-yaahooing on their tails again. A few moremiles of this, David figured, and he’d be heading back to Salt Lake with a trunk full of venison anda killer video to slap down on Dr. Bramble’s desk. His brother, on the other hand, sensedsomething very different going on.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    One of the causes of this admiration of cruelty in the world-culture of this period was the widespread respect for ‘the unconscious’. The distinction between the conscious and unconscious motives, which had played such a beneficial part in an earlier psychology, had by now led to absurdities. The unconscious was now said to be the divine will working in us. The unconscious sources of action were therefore sacred. In a race in which, through unwholesome conditioning, the ‘unconscious’ was a tissue of perverted cravings, this meant that the perverse was deified.