James Bond: Good evening, sir.
M: It happens to be 3 a.m. When do you sleep, 007?
James Bond: Never on the Crown's time, sir.
James Bond: One takes cyanide, another would let her arm be broken, neither will talk. Who puts that sort of fear into people?
Photographer: You'll be sorry! You'll all be sorry, you rats.
Honey Ryder: Have you any idea what they'll do with us?
James Bond: No idea. No door handles or windows, either.
Honey Ryder: It's a prison, then.
James Bond: Mink-lined with first-class service.
James Bond: Tell me Miss Trench, do you play any other games?
Miss Taro: What's going on behind my back?
James Bond: Look, no hands.
James Bond: Tell me, does the toppling of American missiles really compensate for having no hands?
Hotel Valet: One medium dry vodka martini, mixed like you said, sir, and not stirred.
James Bond: Thank you.
James Bond: That's a naughty little habit. Listening at keyholes?
James Bond: Now, don't worry, Quarrel. Everything's going to be fine.
Quarrel: You say so, Captain. Bottom part of where my belly used to be tells me different.
James Bond: For me, Crab Key's going to be a gentle relaxation.
Felix Leiter: From what? Dames?
James Bond: No, from being a clay pigeon.
Dr. No: A medium dry martini, lemon peel, shaken, not stirred.
James Bond: Vodka?
Dr. No: Of course.
Felix Leiter: You Limeys can be pretty touchy about trespassing.
James Bond: Both hands on the wheel, Mr. Jones, I'm a very nervous passenger.
Felix Leiter: Felix Leiter, Central Intelligence Agency. You must be James Bond.
James Bond: You mean we're fighting the same war?
James Bond: You believe in living dangerously. I can see that.
Miss Taro: What do you mean?
James Bond: Sitting around with wet hair, you'll die of pneumonia.
Dr. No: That's a Dom Perignon '55. It would be a pity to break it.
James Bond: I prefer the '53 myself.
