Quotes About Author

WHEN THE Diamond Smugglers was first published Ian Fleming had a copy bound for his own library. On the flyleaf, as was his custom, he wrote a short paragraph describing its genesis. It started with the alarming words: "This was written in 2 weeks in Tangiers, April 1957." As the ensuing tale of woe made clear, he didn't consider it his finest fortnight. He ended with the dismissive verdict: "It

SPECTRE Ã¢â'¬â€œ The Special Executive for Counterintelligence, Terrorism, Revenge, and Extortion.

Bond sat down on his rumpled bed and lost himself in drink and gloomy reflections.

there was no beatnik movement in Germany because there were now no traditions to revolt against;

the greatly exaggerated hullabaloo recently created, largely by newspapers wanting 'a story', about the resurgence of Nazism and anti-Semitism.

In the light of our inclination to see land as a commodity, it is not surprising that many of us fail to have a robust theology of the land.

Oblivion seemed the only reasonable option.

The evasions of her little novel were exactly those of her life. Everything she did not wish to confront was also missing from her novella--and was necessary to it.

she belonged to the law as some women had once been brides of Christ.

The world is also full of wonders, which is why I'm foolishly in love with it.

In those first moments it was easier to conceal a confusion of feeling behind a motherly tone

If only she could, like the mother of Jesus, arrive at that swollen state by magic.

God was once supposed to be a grown-up, but in disputes He childishly took sides.

This is what he disliked about political people – injustice and calamity animated them, it was their milk, their lifeblood, it pleasured them.

This was insomniac memory, not a dream. Frowning with concern, she took his free hand in hers and began to lead him across the room.

Such a fantasy of miscegenation could be a form of racism or simple adoration, but either way he was in no mood to banish it.

Given Stalin's recent backsliding on the political independence of Eastern Europe

He bared his teeth in a happy feral grin. My own personal psycho.

I gave him my best cryptic smile. He did not fall down to his feet, kiss my shoes, and promise me the world. I must be getting rusty.

Aha! So I'm not crazy." "You are most definitely crazy," Derek said. "But in a deranged, endearing way.

Was his body made out of orange rocks and did he at any point yell 'It's clobbering time'? I find your attempt at levity inappropriate. Consider me properly chastised.

I'm welding the bimbo room shut.

I glanced at Derek. The boy wonder didn't melt into a pile of goo, although his gaze was glued to Rowena's chest. Avoiding eye contact. Good strategy.

What would I do without the moral compass of a teenage werewolf?