The boys. The beef-witted featherbrained rattleskulled clod-pated dim-domed noodle-noggined sapheaded lunk-knobbed boys. How could anybody accuse her of stealing them? Why would anybody want them anyway?
Dummy, dummy, go out now and fill your tummy.
Westley: This is true love - you think this happens every day?
I'll tell you the truth and its up to you to live with it.
The enemy is always in the mind.
Existence was really very simple when you did what you were told.
When I was your age, television was called books.
Inigo Montoya: He's right on top of us. I wonder if he is using the same wind we are using.
The hollowness was in his arms and the world was snowing.
Flaws would not only bring death but, far worse, humiliation.
When was the last time you read a book? The truth now. And picture books don't count-I mean something with print in it.
Inside and out, Westley's world was ripping apart and he could do nothing but crack along with it.
Good night, Westley. Good work. Sleep well. I'll most likely kill you in the morning.
Who says life is fair, where is that written?
It's one of my biggest memories of my father reading. I had pneumonia, remember, but I was a little better now, and madly caught up in the book, and one thing you know when you're ten is that, no matter what, there's gonna be a happy ending. They can sweat all they want to scare you, the authors, but back of it all you know, you just have no doubt, that in the long run justice is going to win out.
The tears that kept Buttercup company the remainder of the day were not at all like those that had blinded her into the tree trunk. Those were noisy and hot; they pulsed. These were silent and steady and all they did was remind her that she wasn't good enough. She was seventeen, and every male she'd ever known had crumbled at her feet and it meant nothing. The one time it really mattered, she wasn't good enough.
He had risked his life and now it was walking away from him, hand-in-hand with a Ruffian prince.
You are trying to kidnap what I have rightfully stolen, and I think it quite ungentlemanly.
Just because you're beautiful and perfect, it's made you conceited.
There are always too few perfect breasts in this world; leave yours alone.
He was the mighty Fezzik, lover of rhymes, and you did not give up, no matter what.
You could concentrate much more deeply when you were alone with agony.
Love is many things none of them logical.
There's a shortage of perfect breasts in this world. It would be a pity to damage yours.
Her heart was a secret garden and the walls were very high.
You mock my pain! Life is pain, anyone who says otherwise is obviously selling something!
My name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die!
There's death coming up, and you better understand this:some of the wrong people die.Be ready for it.
I guess the most amazing thing about crying though is that when you're in it, you think it'll go on forever but it never really lasts half what you think. Not in terms of real time. In terms of real emotions, it's worse than you think, but not by the clock.
More William Goldman Quotations (Based on Topics)
World - Love - Life - Books - Mind - Night - Time - Pain - Truth - Memory - Writing - Fairness - Wisdom & Knowledge - Death & Dying - Perfection - Fathers - Work & Career - Enemy - Morning - View All William Goldman Quotations
More William Goldman Quotations (By Book Titles)
- The Princess Bride
V. S. Naipaul - Umberto Eco - Robertson Davies - P. D. James - James Clavell - Jack Higgins - J. R. R. Tolkien - J. D. Salinger - Fyodor Dostoevsky - Anne Bronte