Shaken And Not Stirred.

One Of The Bibles Of My Youth Was 'birds Of The West Indies,' By James Bond, A Well-known Ornithologist, And When I Was Casting About For A Name For My Protagonist I Thought, 'my God, That's The Dullest Name I've Ever Heard,' So I Appropriated It. Now The Dullest Name In The World Has Become An Exciting One.

Above All, He Liked It That Everything Was One's Own Fault. There Was Only Oneself To Praise Or Blame. Luck Was A Servant And Not A Master. Luck Had To Be Accepted With A Shrug Or Taken Advantage Of Up To The Hilt. But It Had To Be Understood And Recognized For What It Was And Not Confused With A Faulty Appreciation Of The Odds, For, At Gambling, The Deadly Sin Is To Mistake Bad Play For Bad Luck. And Luck In All Its Moods Had To Be Loved And Not Feared

I Would Stay Away From Him And Leave Him To Go His Own Road Where There Would Be Other Women, Countless Other Women, Who Would Probably Give Him As Much Physical Pleasure As He Had Had With Me. I Wouldn’t Care, Or At Least I Told Myself That I Wouldn’t Care, Because None Of Them Would Ever Own Him—own Any Larger Piece Of Him Than I Now Did.

Unfortunately Most Ways Of Making Big Money Take A Long Time. By The Time One Has Made The Money One Is Too Old To Enjoy It.

A Medium Vodka Dry Martini - With A Slice Of Lemon Peel. Shaken And Not Stirred.