Bond Villain Quotes

Today we are fighting Communism. Okay. If I'd been alive fifty years ago, the brand of Conservatism we have today would have been damn near called Communism and we should have been told to go and fight that. History is moving pretty quickly these days and the heroes and villains keep on changing parts.

Can't anyone ever start a fight without all the posturing and cheesy Bond-villain threats? It's not that hard. Here, let me demonstrate." And he smashed a fist into Colin's nose.

History is moving pretty quickly these days, and the heroes and villains keep on changing parts.

History is moving pretty quickly these days and the heroes and villains keep on changing parts.

And Victor, who was so good at picking things apart, at understanding how they worked, how he worked, looked at the photo, and felt … conflicted. Hate was too simple a word. He and Eli were bonded, by blood and death and science. They were alike, more so now than ever. And he had missed Eli. He wanted to see him. And he wanted to see him suffer. He wanted to see the look in Eli’s eyes when he lit them up with pain. He wanted his attention.

And they have a problem with Dresden, I take it?" Murphy asked. "Wanna kill him or something. I don't know," Thomas said, nodding. "They tried it on Jet Skis earlier today." "Roger Moore Bond villains?" Murphy asked, her tone derisive. "Seriously?" "Be silent, mortal cow," snarled one of the Sidhe. Murphy tracked her eyes calmly over to that one, and she nodded once, as if memorizing something. "Yeah, okay. You.

What are you, a James Bond villain?” I said. “The least-hot Bond girl ever? Pussy NoMore?

I kinda feel like a Bond villain. I just need a cat sitting in my lap. I could scratch their ears while I chuckle at the fact that a superhero just fell into a damn pit trap.

These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to us: though the wisdom of nature can reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds itself scourged by the sequent effects: love cools, friendship falls off, brothers divide: in cities, mutinies; in countries, discord; in palaces, treason; and the bond cracked 'twixt son and father. This villain of mine comes under the prediction; there's son against father: the king falls from bias of nature; there's father against child. We have seen the best of our time: machinations, hollowness, treachery, and all ruinous disorders, follow us disquietly to our graves. Find out this villain, Edmund; it shall lose thee nothing; do it carefully. And the noble and true-hearted Kent banished! his offence, honesty! 'Tis strange.

It’s like watching a James Bond movie. Morpheus—in a black trench-coat-style blazer that hangs to his thighs, gray tweed pants, a dark gray vest, skinny red tie, and black pin-striped dress shirt—could pass for a punk-fae secret agent who’s captured his villain. His thick blue waves touch his shoulders from under a gray tweed flat cap, and his wings drape down his back and across the floor, fluttering sporadically as he keeps his balance against Jeb’s resistance.

Inside each of us resides the truth,” I began, “the absolute truth. But sometimes the truth is hidden in a hall of mirrors. Sometimes we believe we are viewing the real thing, when in fact we are viewing a facsimile, a distortion. As I listen to this trial, I am reminded of the climactic scene of a James Bond film, The Man with the Golden Gun. James Bond escaped his hall of mirrors by breaking the glass, shattering the illusions, until only the true villain stood before him. We, too, must shatter the mirrors. We must look into ourselves and root out the distortions until that thing which we know in our hearts is perfect and true, stands before us. Only then will justice be served.

[W]hen one’s young, it seems very easy to distinguish between right and wrong, but as one gets older it becomes more difficult. At school it’s easy to pick out one’s own villains and heroes and one grows up wanting to be a hero and kill the villains.

Need could be as powerful as any emotional bond. Need could be simple, as primal as fear or pain. Need could be the foundation of allegiance.

Hate was too simple a word. He and Eli were bonded, by blood and death and science. They were alike, more so now than ever. And he had missed Eli. He wanted to see him. And he wanted to see him suffer. He wanted to see the look in Eli’s eyes when he lit them up with pain. He wanted his attention.

Today’s readers can be roughly divided into two groups, those who accept the fantasy villains of childhood, as in the James Bond stories and Arnold Schwarzenegger films, and those who insist on credibility.

Kill them quickly?” Murray asked, without bothering to raise his hand. “Really? Isn’t it more fun to draw their death out a little? To make them suffer?” Joshua sighed. “No. We’re not James Bond villains here, kids. The more you draw out your enemy’s deaths, the more chance they have to escape. So no lowering them into pools full of crocodiles or trying to slice them in half with lasers or anything like that. Just shoot them and be done with it.” Ashley

What’s ridiculous, little dragon, is that you think you can walk into my space and walk out again without any consequences.

She'd fallen asleep in my arms. It was such a simple thing. So why did it feel like a miracle I could barely process?

Because for now, the world outside didn't exist. There was only her. For the first time in a long time, I felt as if I wasn't lost. I wasn't broken. I was exactly where I was meant to be.

But Zelda was never about plot. Indeed, one's head could explode if all the games were considered one story, since Link is always meeting Zelda and villainous Gannon for the first time. Imagine trying to explain why James Bond has stayed forty years old for forty years, while changing faces and hair color. Better to accept the story as a constant retelling, and don't dwell on continuity matters. Mario has made a cottage industry of jokes about how Bowser had only one playbook—kidnap the princess—and this time it'll work! He's utterly incapable of coming up with any other plan. Aside from that one time he obtained a degree in hotel management.

Fallacy of the Talking Killer. The villain wants to kill the hero. He has him cornered at gunpoint. All he has to do is pull the trigger. But he always talks first. He explains the hero's mistakes to him. Jeers. Laughs. And gives the hero time to think his way out of the situation, or be rescued by his buddy. Cf. most James Bond movies.

For this equality belongs to the post-Renaissance world of ideology-of political magic and the alchemical science” of politics. Envy is the basis of its broad appeal. And rampant envy, the besetting virus of modern society, is the most predictable result of insistence upon its realization. Furthermore, hue and cry over equality of opportunity and equal rights leads, a fortiori, to a final demand for equality of condition. Under its pressure self respect gives way in the large majority of men who have not reached the level of their expectation, who have no support from an inclusive identity, and who hunger for “revenge” on those who occupy a higher station and will (they expect) continue to enjoy that advantage. The end result is visible in the spiritual proletarians of the “lonely crowd.” Bertrand de Jouvenel has described the process which produces such non-persons in his memorable study, On Power. They are the natural pawns of an impersonal and omnicompetent Leviathan. And to insure their docility such a state is certain to recruit a large “new class” of men, persons superior in “ability” and authority, both to their ostensible “masters” among the people and to such anachronisms as stand in their progressive way. Such is the evidence of the recent past and particularly of American history. Arrant individualism, fracturing and then destroying the hope of amity and confederation, the communal bond and the ancient vision of the good society as an extrapolation from family, is one villain in this tale. Another is rationalized cowardice, shame, and ingratitude hidden behind the disguise of self-sufficiency or the mask of injured merit. Interdependence, which secures dignity and makes of equality a mere irrelevance, is the principal victim.

Patriotism comes along and makes it all seem fairly alright, but this country right or wrong business is getting a little out of date. Today, we are fighting communism, okay. If I'd been alive fifty years ago, the brand of conservatism we have today would have been damn near called communism, and we should have been told to go and fight that. History is moving pretty quickly these days, and the heroes and villains keep on changing parts.

One common thread ran through the comments: everybody loathes Ticketmaster, for assorted reasons, with the wonderful diversity that makes our country so vibrant. If James Bond movies and other international thrillers weary of their casts of modern stock villains—drug dealers, terrorists, polluting corporations—Ticketmaster is waiting in the wings, universally despised. And if such a movie proved incredibly popular and were then transmuted into a hit Broadway musical, Ticketmaster itself could scalp—sorry, resell—tickets to it.

Don't take another fucking step near my Bond or I'll rip your fucking throat out with my bare teeth." I wonder which one of the crew has been stupid enough to try to approach us because he cannot be talking to one of the Dravens like that, but then Nox says, snark dripping down his words, "She's my Bond as well." Atlas scoffs. "No, she's your punching bag, your favorite victim. She's the default villain in every one of your stories. You move even an inch closer and I'll take the whole fucking plane out to stop you. No more warnings.

Don’t take another fucking step near my Bond or I’ll rip your fucking throat out with my bare teeth.” I wonder which one of the crew has been stupid enough to try to approach us because he cannot be talking to one of the Dravens like that, but then Nox says, snark dripping down his words, “She’s my Bond as well.” Atlas scoffs. “No, she’s your punching bag, your favorite victim. She’s the default villain in every one of your stories. You move even an inch closer and I’ll take the whole fucking plane out to stop you. No more warnings.

Now that little problem of yours, this business of not knowing good men from bad men and villains from heroes and so forth...There's still plenty for you to do. And you'll do it. And when you fall in love and have a mistress or a wife and children to look after, it will all seem easier." He opened the door but stopped on the threshold. "Surround yourself with human beings, my dear. They are easier to fight for than principles." He laughed. "But don't let me down and become human yourself. We would lose such a wonderful machine." With a wave of his hand he shut the door.

patriotism comes along and makes it seem fairly all right, but this country-right-or-wrong business is getting a little out-of-date. Today we are fighting communism. Okay. If I’d been alive fifty years ago, the brand of conservatism we have today would have been damn near called communism and we should have been told to go and fight that. History is moving pretty quickly these days and the heroes and villains keep on changing parts.

He was bound to the soil. He could not leave the manor to seek for better conditions of life elsewhere. If he ran away, his lord could obtain an order from a court and have him brought back. When permission was obtained to remain away from the manor as an inhabitant of another vill or of a town, it was only upon payment of a periodical sum, frequently known as "chevage" or head money. He could not sell his cattle without paying the lord for permission. He had practically no standing in the courts of the country. In any suit against his lord the proof of his condition of villainage was sufficient to put him out of court, and his only recourse was the local court of the manor, where the lord himself or his representative presided. Finally, in the eyes of the law, the villain had no property of his own, all his possessions being, in the last resort, the property of his lord. This legal theory, however, apparently had but little application to real life; for in the ordinary course of events the customary tenant, if only by custom, not by law, yet held and bequeathed to his descendants his land and his chattels quite as if they were his own. Serfdom, as it existed in England in the thirteenth century, can hardly be defined in strict legal terms. It can be described most correctly as a condition in which the villain tenant of the manor was bound to the locality and to his services and payments there by a legal bond, instead of merely by an economic bond, as was the case with the small free tenant.

Begin at the beginning. Know nothing. Tabula rasa. At the same time, part of me wanted to distinguish myself. To let her sense the bond we shared straightaway. Maybe subtly hint at some of my secret intelligence. A secret handshake. A nod. I now completely understood how criminal masterminds could so easily get caught before the big reveal—the temptation to boast about the execution was huge.

He had a faint accent, not quite Eurovision, not quite Bond villain.

We live in an age of what scholars call stochastic terrorism, otherwise known as ‘lone-wolf terrorism’, although that phrase is imprecise. ‘Lone wolf’ sounds like something from the movies. It implies that acts of spectacular violence are the result of organization, that there are masterminds hiding, like Bond villains, in distant countries, elaborating schemes and then disseminating them over networks, to be undertaken by their secretive minions. The reality of the current threat is much more banal. The background hum of hyper-partisanship, the rage and loathing of everyday American politics, generates a widespread tolerance for violence. Eventually somebody acts on it.

Clare also got to know author and adventurer Fitzroy Maclean (one of the many supposed ‘inspirations’ for James Bond) during his stint with the SOE in Cairo. Paddy Leigh Fermor was another of the colourful SOE characters whom she could not avoid meeting at the SOE boys’ wild parties, which took place in a grand rented mansion in the Gezira district, and whose guests ranged from the British ambassador to Egypt’s King Farouk. It was true that the SOE did not always maintain the low profile one might have assumed from a supposedly secret organisation. There was usually always at least one SOE representative, drink in hand, on the Shepheard’s hotel veranda. And the location of the SOE headquarters was the worst kept secret in the city. Fitzroy Maclean recounted his first visit, when having whispered the street address to a ‘villainous-looking’ taxi driver the Egyptian just nodded – ‘ah, you want Secret Service …

However, just sitting in a chair addressing the camera seemed a little too maniacal; too Bond villain-ish. I might as well have sat down in a computer chair and spun around stroking a cat when the cameras started rolling. I chuckled at the thought of that. I’d probably name the cat Socks, because it would have black markings on its feet that would look like socks and—I shook the thoughts from my mind. I clenched my eyes and took a deep breath. Focus, Kane. Focus, I told myself. I was really, really nervous.

In a 2014 interview with New York Magazine, senior Associate Justice Antonin Scalia stated his belief that there is an actual devil. Not a mythical creature representing the dark side of the human heart, but an actual, malevolent entity living in a fiery netherworld who, like some Bond villain holding a pitchfork instead an albino pussycat, is actually plotting to corrupt mankind. This was stated with confidence, even arrogance, by a man who made decisions affecting the lives of 350 million Americans and, by extension, the world.

When next we meet, all of your bonds shall be severed. By the light that guides me, I shall see it done.

Arthur Starling is watching me, Bond-villain-ly, from the shadows of a wingback armchair. There are dozens of books piled around him, bristling with sticky notes, and a stack of neatly labeled folders.

Of course,’ he added, as Mathis started to expostulate, ‘patriotism comes along and makes it seem fairly all right, but this country-right-or-wrong business is getting a little out-of-date. Today we are fighting communism. Okay. If I’d been alive fifty years ago, the brand of conservatism we have today would have been damn near called communism and we should have been told to go and fight that. History is moving pretty quickly these days and the heroes and villains keep on changing parts.

My mothers are a triad, bonded by an affection so potent they conceived me during one night of especially passionate lovemaking. A miracle

Yours is the only kingdom I'll pay fealty to. Yours are the only feet at which I'll willingly kneel.” He leaned back and touched my chin, lifting it. “I'd rather be a villain by your side than play the hero for anyone else. The world is dark and vile, but I'd willingly follow you into the depths of hell itself. All I want to do is shield you. Do you understand, Morgan? You're my redemption, good or bad, right or wrong.” I looked into his eyes and understood. He may not have been a knight in shining armor, but he was the one I was meant to be with. There was no scaring him away. He had looked into the depths of my shadows and seen the light. He'd looked past every twisted fragment and loved me anyway. “So consume me,” I whispered. “I see your shadows, too, Draven. And I'll only burn for you.

That’s it? C’mon, in the movies you can’t get a Bond villain to shut up. You’re not even going to outline your evil plan for me? Maybe if you pick up your cat and pet it while sitting in an oversized chair, something will come to you.” Was that Bond or Austin Powers? Or Inspector Gadget? It was amazing how easy it was to get those things confused. 

Avengers Endgame done, Spider-Man Far From Home theory says Tony Stark made the spider that bit Peter Parker A new fan theory says that it will be revealed in the upcoming Marvel movie Spider-Man: Far From Home that Tony Stark created the spider that bit a teenage Peter Parker and gave him his superpowers. Tony died at the end of Avengers: Endgame, and shared a fatherly relationship with Peter in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. If this theory were to be proven true, it would give new meaning to their father-son relationship. It has previously been reported that Far From Home, a sequel to 2017’s Spider-Man: Homecoming, will reveal a major secret about Tony. A trailer revealed that Tony has left behind a secret lab for Peter. The theory, posted on Reddit, suggests that Tony worked with Norman Osborne to create the spider that bit Peter, which is why he knew his identity in Captain America: Civil War, and shared such a close bond with him. This will also allow Marvel to introduce Norman into the MCU. A fan had previously ‘leaked’ that Marvel is considering making Norman Osborne (who goes on to become the Green Goblin) a major new villain in the overarching story of the MCU. Another theory suggests that Tony was behind Uncle Ben’s death, which happens before we’re introduced to this version of Peter in the films. A version of this theory previously stated suggests that Uncle Ben died during the Battle of New York, which could indirectly mean that Tony was responsible for it. Far From Home is directed by Jon Watts, and stars Samuel L Jackson, Cobie Smulders and Jake Gyllenhaal in supporting roles, in addition to Tom Holland as Peter. The embargo on reviews will lift on Wednesday - two weeks ahead of release - which suggests that Marvel is positive about the quality of the film.

A virulent form of utopianism has indeed afflicted the modern age, but its name is not Marxism. It is the crazed motion that a single global system known as the free market can impose itself on the most diverse cultures and economies and cure all their ills. The purveyors of this totalitarian fantasy are not to be found hiding scar-faced and sinisterly soft-spoken in underground bunkers like James Bond villains. They are to be seen dining at upmarket Washington restaurants and strolling on Sussex estates.

Those of a future generation will one day look back on printed books with the same benign and befuddled expressions that we use when we look at floppy disks or those colossal IBM mainframes with spinning reels of tape that you see in the background of the villain’s lair in James Bond movies. Books are bulky, and an individual book doesn’t hold much data compared to what an e-reader can hold.

This is your destiny. This is your reality. It could have been easier. It could have been pleasant. It still can be, but you have to accept the Source bond. You think I have taken everything from you? That I am your villain? I can be that for you.

Don’t worry about the tribunal tomorrow. That’s why you’re really so upset tonight, isn’t it? Everyone knows where you stand. You’re House Drakharrow’s. And you’re mine.

... men find islands appealing because they hold the promise of private kingdoms, imaginary holdfasts to escape the problems we cannot face at home. They are the lair of the Bond villain and the home of Prospero, sanctuaries where power can be wielded absolutely and the wide sea forms the ultimate moat.

You conveniently see me as the villain, but you’re bonded to two.