My Name Is Inigo Montoya, You Killed

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.

I Know Something You Do Not Know. I Am Not Left-handed Either.

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 Boys. The Village Boys. The Beef-witted Featherbrained Rattleskulled Clodpated Dimdomed Noodle-noggined Sapheaded Lunk-knobbed Boys. How Could Anybody Accuse Her Of Stealing Them? Why Would Anybody Want Them Anyway?

The Queen's Pride Was His Ship, And He Loved Her. (that Was The Way His Sentences Always Went: It Is Raining Today And I Love You. My Cold Is Better And I Love You. Say Hello To Horse And I Love You. Like That.)