Ian Fleming Quotes
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Luck in all its moods had to be loved and not feared Bond saw luck as a woman, to be softly wooed or brutally ravaged, never pandered to or pursued. But he was honest enough to admit that he had never yet been made to suffer by cards or by women. One day, and he accepted the fact he would be brought to his knees by love or by luck.
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Never job backwards. What might have been was a waste of time.
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Most marriages don't add two people together. They subtract one from the other.
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He shrugged his shoulders to shift the pain of failure---the pain that is so much greater than the pleasure of success.
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Everyone has the revolver of resignation in his pocket.
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A gentleman's choice of timepiece says as much about him as does his Saville Row suit.
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If you interrupt the writing of fast narrative with too much introspection and self-criticism, you will be lucky if you write 500 words a day and you will be disgusted with them into the bargain. By following my formula, you write 2,000 words a day and you aren’t disgusted with them until the book is finished, which will be in about six weeks.
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Men want a woman whom they can turn on and off like a light switch.
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Today we are fighting Communism. Okay. If I'd been alive fifty years ago, the brand of Conservatism we have today would have been damn near called Communism and we should have been told to go and fight that. History is moving pretty quickly these days and the heroes and villains keep on changing parts.
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As a result of 50 years of emancipation, feminine qualities were dying out or being transferred to the males. Pansies of both sexes were everywhere, not yet completely homosexual, but confused not knowing what they were. The result was a herd of unhappy sexual misfits... the women wanting to dominate and the men to be nannied.
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If I wait for the genius to come, it just doesn't arrive.
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Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action.
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A medium Vodka dry Martini - with a slice of lemon peel. Shaken and not stirred.
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Like all harsh, cold men, he was easily tipped over into sentiment.
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There is only one recipe for a best seller and it is a very simple one. You have to get the reader to turn over the page.
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Bond always mistrusted short men. They grew up from childhood with an inferiority complex. All their lives they would strive to be big - bigger than the others who had teased them as a child. Napoleon had been short, and Hitler. It was the short men that caused all the trouble in the world.
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They want us dead,' said Bond calmly. 'So we have to stay alive.
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The conventional parabola--sentiment, the touch of the hand, the kiss, the passionate kiss, the feel of the body, the climax in the bed, then more bed, then less bed, then the boredom, the tears and the final bitterness--was to him shameful and hypocritical.
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All the greatest men are maniacs. They are possessed by a mania which drives them forward towards thier goal. The great scientists, the philosophers, the religious leaders - all maniacs. What else but a blind singlenee of purpose could have given focus to thier genius, would have kept them in the groove of purpose. Mania... is as priceless as genius.
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Mine’s Bond – James Bond.
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Shaken and not stirred.
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And then one day when you're playing your little game you'll suddenly find yourself pinned down like a butterfly.
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He was a secret agent, and still alive thanks to his exact attention to the detail of his profession.
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Surround yourself with human beings, my dear James. They are easier to fight for than principles.
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One of the bibles of my youth was 'Birds of the West Indies,' by James Bond, a well-known ornithologist, and when I was casting about for a name for my protagonist I thought, 'My God, that's the dullest name I've ever heard,' so I appropriated it. Now the dullest name in the world has become an exciting one.
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...Goldfinger could not have known that high tension was Bond's natural way of life and that pressure and danger relaxed him.
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I am a poet in deeds--not often in words.
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Above all, he liked it that everything was one's own fault. There was only oneself to praise or blame. Luck was a servant and not a master. Luck had to be accepted with a shrug or taken advantage of up to the hilt. But it had to be understood and recognized for what it was and not confused with a faulty appreciation of the odds, for, at gambling, the deadly sin is to mistake bad play for bad luck. And luck in all its moods had to be loved and not feared
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All women love semi-rape. They love to be taken.It was his sweet brutality against my bruised body that made his act of love so piercingly wonderful.
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Never say 'no' to adventures.
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