Anderson: What's advertising but a legalized con game? And what the hell's marriage? Extortion, prostitution, soliciting with a government stamp on it. And what the hell's your stock market? A fixed horse race. Some business guy steals a bank, he's a big success story. Face in all the magazines. Some other guy steals the magazine and he's busted.
Sir August de Wynter: "John Steed." What a horse's arse of a name.
Sir August de Wynter: Weather is no longer in God's hands but in mine.
Sir August de Wynter: Nothing is impossible, only mathematically improbable.
Sir August de Wynter: Take India. You can have a good 10 inches overnight, there.
James Bond: Tell me Miss Trench, do you play any other games?
James Bond: One takes cyanide, another would let her arm be broken, neither will talk. Who puts that sort of fear into people?
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?
James Bond: That's a naughty little habit. Listening at keyholes?
Hotel Valet: One medium dry vodka martini, mixed like you said, sir, and not stirred.
James Bond: Thank you.
James Bond: Both hands on the wheel, Mr. Jones, I'm a very nervous passenger.
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