In 1939 I hadn't even realized that this was an immigration problem.
Everything I write is designed to be milked to the last drop of revenue.
I had still never read one of the Bond books when the movie Dr. No came out.
About the Saint's amorous adventures, by the way, I can't speak so brazenly.
If I didn't see its place in the Saga when I planned it, I probably wouldn't write it at all.
It should cause no surprise that anyone so lazy as myself should be economical to the point of miserliness with everything he writes.
For there is a price ticket on everything that puts a whizz into life, and adventure follows the rule. It's distressing, but there you are.
The gleam in their eyes telegraphs only too clearly that they are hoping for a headline, which of course means something disparaging, because nothing makes such good copy as a feud.
The reason is that for many years I have avoided reading anything whatsoever that approaches my own line of country, out of a somewhat fanatical desire to avoid the risk of unconscious imitation.
He believes in romance. He isn't merely going through the mechanical movements of a man in an exciting situation. He is, vitally and positively squeezing the last drop of delight from living the best life he knows in the best way he can.