Westly, Westly, Westly, Westly, Westly,--darling Westly, adored Westly, sweet perfect Westly, whisper that I have a chance to win your love." And with that, she dared the bravest thing she'd ever done: she looked right into his eyes. He closed the door in her face.

I have stayed these years in my hovel because of you. I have taught myself languages because of you. I have made my body strong because I thought you might be pleased by a strong body. I have lived my life with only the prayer that some sudden dawn you might glance in my direction. I have not known a moment in years when the sight of you did not send my heart careening against my rib cage. I have not known a night when your visage did not accompany me to sleep. There has not been a morning when you did not flutter behind my waking eyelids.

Someone would have to keep his wits, and he had assumed automatically that since Fezzik had so few, he would find retaining them not all that difficult.

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

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

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 say you are a coward and you are; I think you hunt only to reassure yourself that you are not what you are: the weakest thing to ever walk the Earth. He will come for me and then we will be gone, and you will be helpless for all your hunting, because 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.