William Goldman Quotes (65 Quotes)

I mean if we even had a wheelbarrow, that would be something.

There are always too few perfect breasts in this world; leave yours alone.

I'll tell you the truth and its up to you to live with it.

There's a shortage of perfect breasts in this world. It would be a pity to damage yours.

Inigo Montoya: He's right on top of us. I wonder if he is using the same wind we are using.

There's death coming up, and you better understand this:some of the wrong people die.Be ready for it.

Anything there is that I can do for you, I will do for you; anything there is that I cannot do, I will learn to do.

Inside and out, Westley's world was ripping apart and he could do nothing but crack along with it.

This is my favorite book in all the world, though I have never read it.

But just as he knew the sun was obliged to rise each morning in the east, no matter how much a western arisal might have pleased it, so he knew that Buttercup was obliged to spend her love on him. Gold was inviting, and so was royalty, but they could not match the fever in his heart, and sooner or later she would have to catch it. She had less choice than the sun.

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.

This was after stew. But then, so is everything. When the first man crawled out of the slime and went to make his home on land, what he had for dinner that night was stew.

Cynics are simply thwarted romantics.

Just because you're beautiful and perfect, it's made you conceited.

True love is the best thing in the world, except for cough drops.

Dummy, dummy, go out now and fill your tummy.

Love is many things none of them logical.

Westley: This is true love - you think this happens every day?

Existence was really very simple when you did what you were told.

My name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die!

When I was your age, television was called books.

Flaws would not only bring death but, far worse, humiliation.

Never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line.

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.

Good night, Westley. Good work. Sleep well. I'll most likely kill you in the morning.

People don't remember me. Really. It's not a paranoid thing; I just have this habit of slipping through memories. It doesn't bother me all that much, except I guess that's a lie; it does. For some reason, I test very high on forgettability.

Who says life is fair, where is that written?

He had risked his life and now it was walking away from him, hand-in-hand with a Ruffian prince.

That's all you need? Easy. I love you.Okay? Want it louder?I love you. Spell it out schould I l-o-v-e y-o-u. Want it backwards You love I.

You are trying to kidnap what I have rightfully stolen, and I think it quite ungentlemanly.

He was the mighty Fezzik, lover of rhymes, and you did not give up, no matter what.

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?

You could concentrate much more deeply when you were alone with agony.

Her heart was a secret garden and the walls were very high.

The enemy is always in the mind.

You mock my pain! Life is pain, anyone who says otherwise is obviously selling something!

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.

The hollowness was in his arms and the world was snowing.

I love you, I know this must come as something of a surprise, since all I've ever done is scorn you and degrade you and taunt you, but I have loved you for several hours now, and every second, more. I thought an hour ago that I loved you more than any woman has ever loved a man, but a half hour after that I knew that what I felt before was nothing compared to what I felt then. But ten minutes after that, I understood that my previous love was a puddle compared to the high seas before a storm.

The infant is ten and he stays,

I love you. Okay? Want it louder? I LOVE YOU. Spell it out, should I? I ell-oh-vee-ee why-oh-you. Want it backward? You love I.

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.

Life is pain, highness. Anyone who tells you differently is selling something.

We are men of action, lies do not become us.

God grant you your quota of smiles.

But love is many things, none of them logical.

But this is life on earth, you can't have everything.

You can never trust what you read.

Nobody knows anything.

The easiest thing to do on earth is not write.