James Bond Series 2 - Live and Let Die

CHAPTER I
THE RED CARPET
THERE are moments of great luxury in the life of a secret agent. There are assignments on which he is required to act the part of a very rich man; occasions when he takes refuge in good living to efface the memory of danger and the shadow of death; and times when, as was now the case, he is a guest in the territory of an allied Secret Service.
From the moment the BOAC Stratocruiser taxied up to the International Air Terminal at Idlewild, James Bond was treated like royalty.
When he left the aircraft with the other passengers he had resigned himself to the notorious purgatory of the US Health, Immigration and Customs machinery. At least an hour, he thought, of overheated, drab-green rooms smelling of last year's air and stale sweat and guilt and the fear that hangs round all frontiers, fear of those closed doors marked PRIVATE that hide the careful men, the files, the teleprinters chattering urgently to Washington, to the Bureau of Narcotics, Counter Espionage, the Treasury, the FBI.
As he walked across the tarmac in the bitter January wind he saw his own name going over the network: BOND, JAMES. BRITISH DIPLOMATIC PASSPORT 0094567, the short wait and the replies coming back on the different machines : NEGATIVE, NEGATIVE, NEGATIVE. And then, from the FBI: POSITIVE AWAIT CHECK. There would be some hasty traffic on the FBI circuit with the Central Intelligence Agency and then: FBI TO IDLEWILD: BOND OKAY OKAY, and the bland official out front would hand him back his passport with a 'Hope you enjoy your stay, Mr. Bond.'
Bond shrugged his shoulders and followed the other passengers through the wire fence towards the door marked US HEALTH SERVICE.

James Bond Series 1 - Casino Royale

Casino Royale

CHAPTER 1 - THE SECRET AGENT
The scent and smoke and sweat of a casino are nauseating at three in the morning. Then the soul-erosion produced by high gambling — a compost of greed and fear and nervous tension — becomes unbearable and the senses awake and revolt from it.
James Bond suddenly knew that he was tired. He always knew when his body or his mind had had enough and he always acted on the knowledge. This helped him to avoid staleness and the sensual bluntness that breeds mistakes.
He shifted himself unobtrusively away from the roulette he had been playing and went to stand for a moment at the brass rail which surrounded breast-high the top table in the salle privée.
Le Chiffre was still playing and still, apparently, winning. There was an untidy pile of flecked hundred-mille plaques in front of him. In the shadow of his thick left arm there nestled a discreet stack of the big yellow ones worth half a million francs each.
Bond watched the curious, impressive profile for a time, and then he shrugged his shoulders to lighten his thoughts and moved away.
The barrier surrounding the caisse comes as high as your chin and the caissier, who is generally nothing more than a minor bank clerk, sits on a stool and dips into his piles of notes and plaques. These are ranged on shelves. They are on a level, behind the protecting barrier, with your groin. The caissier has a cosh and a gun to protect him, and to heave over the barrier and steal some notes and then vault back and get out of the casino through the passages and doors would be impossible. And the caissiers generally work in pairs.

Emma by Jane Austen(10)

She had hoped for an answer here—for a few words to
say that her conduct was at least intelligible; but he was
silent; and, as far as she could judge, deep in thought. At
last, and tolerably in his usual tone, he said,
‘I have never had a high opinion of Frank Churchill.—
I can suppose, however, that I may have underrated him.
My acquaintance with him has been but trifling.—And
even if I have not underrated him hitherto, he may yet
turn out well.—With such a woman he has a chance.—I
have no motive for wishing him ill—and for her sake,
whose happiness will be involved in his good character
and conduct, I shall certainly wish him well.’
‘I have no doubt of their being happy together,’ said
Emma; ‘I believe them to be very mutually and very
sincerely attached.’
‘He is a most fortunate man!’ returned Mr. Knightley,
with energy. ‘So early in life—at three-and-twenty—a
period when, if a man chuses a wife, he generally chuses
ill. At three-and-twenty to have drawn such a prize! What
years of felicity that man, in all human calculation, has
before him!—Assured of the love of such a woman—the
disinterested love, for Jane Fairfax’s character vouches for
her disinterestedness; every thing in his favour,— equality
of situation—I mean, as far as regards society, and all the
Emma
656 of 745

Emma by Jane Austen(9)

‘I am glad I have done being in love with him. I should
not like a man who is so soon discomposed by a hot
morning. Harriet’s sweet easy temper will not mind it.’
He was gone long enough to have had a very
comfortable meal, and came back all the better—grown
quite cool—and, with good manners, like himself—able to
draw a chair close to them, take an interest in their
employment; and regret, in a reasonable way, that he
should be so late. He was not in his best spirits, but
seemed trying to improve them; and, at last, made himself
talk nonsense very agreeably. They were looking over
views in Swisserland.
‘As soon as my aunt gets well, I shall go abroad,’ said
he. ‘I shall never be easy till I have seen some of these
places. You will have my sketches, some time or other, to
look at—or my tour to read—or my poem. I shall do
something to expose myself.’
‘That may be—but not by sketches in Swisserland. You