- Ann O'Neill: This Bond fellow, I don't like him one bit. He's a sadistic brute.
- Ian Fleming: I thought that was your type.
- Ian Fleming: It's not bloody literature. It's a pot boiler. Just words, nothing more. Make believe.
- Ann O'Neill: Really? Is that why he has your golf handicap and taste in vodka?
- Ian Fleming: He's not me.
- Ann O'Neill: You as you would like to be. Your fantasy. Is that who he is?
- Ian Fleming: [to a bartender] Martini. Three measures of Gordon's, one vodka, half of Kina Lillet, shaken not stirred, served in a champagne goblet.
- [the bartender gives him a bottle of beer]