Quotes from William Goldman

What with one thing and another, three years passed.

The Serpent, to my interpretation, was pain.

In any case, the two countries had stayed alive over the centuries mainly by warring on each other. There had been the Olive War, the Tuna Fish Discrepancy, which almost bankrupted both nations, the Roman Rift, which did send them both into insolvency, only to be followed by the Discord of the Emeralds, in which they both got rich again, chiefly by banding together for a brief period and robbing everybody within sailing distance.

Buttercup sat up in bed. It must be his teeth. The farm boy did have good teeth, give credit where credit was due.

Well, why didn't you list that among our assets in the first place?

The main thing was to know the world, every twenty-five years or so, back for a couple hundred years, and if you had that info handy, always there under your belt, then you could figure out the gaps.

Wow, brains as well as boobs.

Non sto cercando di demoralizzarvi, cercate di capire. Voglio dire che penso veramente che l'amore sia la cosa più bella del mondo, dopo le pasticche per la tosse. Ma devo anche dire, per l'ennesima volta, che la vita non è giusta. È solo più decente della morte, tutto qui.

Life isn't fair, Bill. We tell our children that it is, but it's a terrible thing to do. It's not only a lie, it's a cruel lie. Life is not fair, and it never has been, and it's never going to be.

The new doctors all agreed on various tried-and-true medications, and within forty-eight hours of their coming on the case, the King was dead.

She does not get eaten by the sharks at this time," my father said. I looked up at him. "What?" "You looked like you were getting too involved and bothered so I thought I would let you relax.

The truth,' said Westley, 'is that you would rather live with your prince than die with your love.' 'I would rather live than die, I admit it.' 'We are talking of love, madam.' There was a long pause. Then Buttercup said it: 'I can live without love.' And with that she left Westley alone.

You seem a decent fellow," Inigo said. "I hate to kill you." "You seem a decent fellow," answered the man in black. "I hate to die.

Every night for the next year he always said something like that to me: 'Thank you for everything, Westley, good night now, I'll probably kill you in the morning.

When I left you, he whispered, you were already more beautiful than anything I dared to dream. In our years apart, my imaginings did their best to improve on your perfection. At night, your face was forever behind my eyes. And now I see that that vision who kept me company in my loneliness was a hag compared to the beauty now before me.

myself am often surprised at life's little quirks

Hello . . . my name is Inigo Montoya; you killed my father . . . prepare to die . . . .

It's not important, believe me; the past has a way of being past.

There is no room in my body for anything but you. My arms love you, my ears adore you, my knees shake with blind affection. My mind begs you to ask it something so it can obey.

I have loved you for several hours now, and every second, more.

La vie imite l'art, l'art imite la vie; parfois je suis incapable de les distinguer.

No one could be following us yet?" the Spaniard asked. "No one," the Sicilian assured him. "It would be inconceivable." "Absolutely inconceivable?" "Absolutely, totally, and, in all other ways, inconceivable," the Sicilian reassured him. "Why do you ask?

With any luck at all," he said, "we should soon be safely in the Fire Swamp.

Enough about my beauty," Buttercup said. "Everybody always talks about how beautiful I am. I've got a mind, Westley. Talk about that.