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.
Inconceivable!You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.
Life is pain, highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.
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.)
Now what happens? asked the man in black. We face each other as God intended, Fezzik said. No tricks, no weapons, skill against skill alone.You mean you’ll put down your rock and I’ll put down my sword and we’ll try to kill each other like civilized people, is that it?
I mean, I really do think that love is the best thing in the world, except for cough drops. But I also have to say, for the umpty-umpth time, that life isn’t fair. It’s just fairer than death, that’s all.
Buttercup’s mother whirled on him. ‘Did you forget to pay your taxes?’ (This was after taxes. But everything is after taxes. Taxes were here even before stew.)