Spies are the ears and eyes of Princes.
He was a secret agent, and still alive thanks to his exact attention to the detail of his profession.
Every man is surrounded by a neighborhood of voluntary spies.
There aren't enough secrets to go round anymore. Some spies are having to invent secrets in order to earn a living.
There are Russian spies here now. And if we're lucky, they'll steal some of our secrets and they'll be two years behind.
Writing about magic is harder than writing about spies because you're dealing with something that doesn't really exist.
A good man does not spy around for the black spots in others, but presses unswervingly on towards his mark.