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If all that's going on in your scenes is what's going on in your scenes, think about it a long time.
William Goldman
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William Goldman
Age: 87 †
Born: 1931
Born: August 12
Died: 2018
Died: November 16
Novelist
Playwright
Screenwriter
Writer
Highland Park
Illinois
S. Morgenstern
Harry Longbaugh
Long
Time
Think
Thinking
Scenes
Scene
Going
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Anybody that says different is selling something.
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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.
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Yes, I am a failed playwright. I had three shows on Broadway by the time I was 30. They all flopped, and I fled.
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There are always too few perfect breasts in this world leave yours alone.
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The enemy is always in the mind.
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Never get involved in a land war in Asia.
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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.
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You're alive! Fezzik cried. The man in black sat immobile, like a ventriloquist's dummy, just his mouth moving. That is perhaps the most childishly obvious remark I have ever come across.
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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?
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This is my favorite book in all the world, though I have never read it.
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Buttercup's mother hesitated, then put her stew spoon down. (This was after stew, but so is everything. When the first man first clambered from the slime and made his first home on land, what he had for supper that first night was stew.)
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Her heart was a secret garden and the walls were very high.
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Who are you? No one of consequence. I must know. Get used to disappointment.
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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.
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And what have I done? What? WHAT?...You've stolen them. With that, Cornelia fled, but Buttercup understood she knew who them was. The boys. The beef-witted featherbrained rattledskulled clodpated dim-domed noodle-noggined sapheaded lunk-knobbed BOYS.
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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.
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The first morning after Westley's departure, Buttercup thought she was entitled to do nothing more than sit around moping and feeling sorry for herself. After all, the love of her life had fled, life had no meaning, how could you face the future, et cetera, et cetera.
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As far as the filmmaking process is concerned, stars are essentially worthless - and absolutely essential.
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Inside and out, Westley's world was ripping apart and he could do nothing but crack along with it.
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