He was one of the masters of the thriller and he really was one of the great signposts, because he took the spy thriller out of the gentility of the drawing room and into the back streets of Istanbul and… — Frederick Forsyth Copy Share Image
It is cold at six-forty in the morning on a March day in Paris, and seems even colder when a man is about to… — Frederick Forsyth Copy Share Image
I'm very sceptical about some of the excesses that I regard the Milibands of this world are leading towards. When you think about it,… — Frederick Forsyth Copy Share Image
“As he went down the steps to the street, something was troubling him. Something about the Vietcong officer, his face, the expression of frozen… — Frederick Forsyth Copy Share Image
The last of the lonely places is the sky, a trackless void where nothing lives or grows, and above it, space itself. Man may… — Frederick Forsyth Copy Share Image
The Internet offers authors and their readers a new diversity of opportunities and freedom. — Frederick Forsyth Copy Share Image
“...a woman of quite bovine stupidity and potato-like contours...” — Frederick Forsyth Copy Share Image
He was one of the masters of the thriller and he really was one of the great signposts, because he took the spy thriller… — Frederick Forsyth Copy Share Image
As ever with modern Britain, we are let down by a vast, over-manned, over-funded, hidebound, obstructive, box-ticking and incompetent bureaucracy. — Frederick Forsyth Copy Share Image
“The natives who saw him walking alone, and later brought him back to the town for burial, said he was whistling when he went.… — Frederick Forsyth Copy Share Image
“… Shannon’s fingers itched to smash the man in the face. Inside his head he kept telling himself, Keep cool, baby, absolutely cool.” — Frederick Forsyth Copy Share Image
“Because he was single, a number of girls made eyes at him, but his rebuffs were always polite and gentle. There were one or… — Frederick Forsyth Copy Share Image
