You're An Enemy Of Art And I

Mawwage. Mawwage Is What Bwings Us Together Today.

My Name Is Inigo Montoya, You Killed My Father, Prepare To Die!

Do I Love You? My God, If Your Love Were A Grain Of Sand, Mine Would Be A Universe Of Beaches.

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.

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?