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?
Photographer: You'll be sorry! You'll all be sorry, you rats.
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?
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.