He Has The Gift Of Quiet.

...also Took For Granted That Secret Services Were The Only Real Measure Of A Nations Political Health, The Only Real Expression Of Its Subconscious.

Writing Is Like Walking In A Deserted Street. Out Of The Dust In The Street You Make A Mud Pie.

Smiley Was Soaked To The Skin And God As A Punishment Had Removed All Taxis From The Face Of London.

Look... We're Getting To Be Old Men, And We've Spent Our Lives Looking For The Weaknesses In One Another's Systems. I Can See Through Eastern Values Just As You Can See Through Our Western Ones. Both Of Us, I Am Sure, Have Experienced Ad Nauseam The Technical Satisfactions Of This Wretched War. But Now Your Own Side Is Going To Shoot You. Don't You Think It's Time To Recognise That There Is As Little Worth On Your Side As There Is On Mine?

Ideologies Have No Heart Of Their Own. They're The Whores And Angels Of Our Striving Selves.