William Goldman Quotes

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

Nobody knows anything.

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

Fool!" cried the hunchback. "You fell victim to one of the classic blunders. The most famous is 'Never get involved in a land war in Asia,' but only slightly less well known is this: 'Never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line.

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

Westley and I are joined by the bond of love and you cannot track that, not with a thousand bloodhounds, and you cannot break it, not with a thousand swords.

Never get involved in a land war in Asia.

Writing is finally about one thing: going into a room alone and doing it. Putting words on paper that have never been there in quite that way before. And although you are physically by yourself, the haunting Demon never leaves you, that Demon being the knowledge of your own terrible limitations, your hopeless inadequacy, the impossibility of ever getting it right. No matter how diamond-bright your ideas are dancing in your brain, on paper they are earthbound.

Do I love you? My God, if your love were a grain of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches.

Nobody knows anything...... Not one person in the entire motion picture field knows for a certainty what's going to work. Every time out it's a guess and, if you're lucky, an educated one.

A good writer is not someone who knows how to write- but how to rewrite

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

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

One of the easiest things in the world is not to write... If it were easy, everyone would do it.

It’s an accepted fact that all writers are crazy, even the normal ones are weird.

"We’ll never survive!” “Nonsense. You’re only saying that because no one ever has."

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

Love is many things none of them logical.

When I was your age, television was called books.

He held up a book then. “I'm going to read it to you for relax.” “Does it have any sports in it?” “Fencing. Fighting. Torture. Poison. True Love. Hate. Revenge. Giants. Hunters. Bad men. Good men. Beautifulest Ladies. Snakes. Spiders... Pain. Death. Brave men. Cowardly men. Strongest men. Chases. Escapes. Lies. Truths. Passion. Miracles.” “Sounds okay,” I said and I kind of closed my eyes.

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

You have to protect your writing time. You have to protect it to the death.

I've been saying it so long to you, you just wouldn't listen. Every time you said 'Farm Boy do this' you thought I was answering 'As you wish' but that's only because you were hearing wrong. 'I love you' was what it was, but you never heard.

Life isn't fair. It's just fairer than death, that's all.

Who says life is fair, where is that written?

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.

Westley: Hear this now: I will always come for you. Buttercup: But how can you be sure? Westley: This is true love-you think this happens every day? Westley: I told you I would always come for you. Why didn't you wait for me? Buttercup: Well...you were dead. Westley: Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while. Buttercup: i will never doubt again. Westley: There will never be a need.

Flailing and thrashing, Buttercup wept and tossed and paced and wept some more, and there have been three great cases of jealousy since David of Galilee was first afflicted with the emotion when he could no longer stand the fact that his neighbor Saul's cactus outshone his own. (Originally, jealousy pertained solely to plants, other people's cactus or ginkgoes, or, later, when there was grass, grass, which is why, even to this day, we say that someone is green with jealousy.) Buttercup's case rated a close fourth on the all-time list. It was a very long and very green night.

Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while.

Cynics are simply thwarted romantics.

She loves you," the Prince cried. "She loves you still and you love her, so think of that--think of this too: in all this world, you might have been happy, genuinely happy. Not one couple in a century has that chance, not really, no matter what the storybooks say, but you could have had it, and so, I would think, no one will ever suffer a loss as great as you.

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

While he was watching the ships, Buttercup shoved him with all her strength remaining. [...] Down went the man in black. [...] "You can die too for all I care," she said, and then she turned away. Words followed her. Whispered from far, weak and warm and familiar. "As...you...wish..."

I am your Prince and you will marry me," Humperdinck said. Buttercup whispered, "I am your servant and I refuse." "I am you Prince and you cannot refuse." "I am your loyal servant and I just did." "Refusal means death." "Kill me then.

Have fun storming the castle!

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.

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

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

Everyone had told her, since she became a princess-in-training, that she was very likely the most beautiful woman in the world. Now she was going to be the richest and the most powerful as well. Don't expect too much from life, Buttercup told herself as she rode along. Learn to be satisfied with what you have.

I can't keep my head above water one minute to the next: it's not just the parties and the goo-gooing with what's-her-name, I've got the decide how long the Five Hundredth Anniversary Parade is going to be and where does it start and when does it start and which nobleman gets to march in front of which other nobleman so that everyone's still speaking to me at the end of it, plus I've got a wife to murder and a country to frame for it, plus I've got to get the war going once that's all happened, and all this is stuff I've got to do myself. Here's what it all comes down to: I'm just swamped, Ty.

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

Her mother was my wife," the Count roared, loudest of all. "You pathetic excuse for am money-grubbing fool, you disgrace to the face of the world." And with a shriek of disgust he turned and was gone. Guilietta was beside Inigo then, so excited. "Daddy likes you," she said.

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.

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.

I love you,” Buttercup said. “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.

Inconceivable!" "You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.

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.

Is this a kissing book?

Whoever invented the meeting must have had Hollywood in mind. I think they should consider giving Oscars for meetings: Best Meeting of the Year, Best Supporting Meeting, Best Meeting Based on Material from Another Meeting.

No. Not yet. A craftsman only. But I dream to be an artist. I pray that someday, if I work with enough care, if I am very very lucky, I will make a weapon that is a work of art. Call me an artist then, and I will answer.