Writing is finally about one thing: going into a room alone and doing it, putting words on paper that have never been there in quite that way before. — William Goldman Copy Share Image
“INIGO WAS IN Despair. Hard to find on the map (this was after maps) not because cartographers didn't know of its existence, but because… — William Goldman Copy Share Image
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… — William Goldman Copy Share Image
“You thought I was answering "As you wish" but that's only because you were hearing wrong. "I love you" was what it was, but… — William Goldman Copy Share Image
One way an author dies a little each day is when his books go out of print. — William Goldman Copy Share Image
“And when she at last came out, her eyes were dry. Her parents stared up from their silent breakfast at her. They both started… — William Goldman Copy Share Image
“any experience is profitable if you allow it to be, all actions are profitable, no matter how badly you may suffer from them.” — William Goldman Copy Share Image
“Buttercup could picture Westley rounding the final corner. There were four guards outside waiting. At ten seconds per guard, she began figuring, but then… — William Goldman Copy Share Image
“Well, you haven’t once said you loved me.’ ‘That’s all you need? Easy. I love you. Okay? Want it louder? I love you. Spell… — William Goldman Copy Share Image
You think this is a trap then?" the Count asked. "I always think everything is a trap until proven otherwise," the Prince answered. "Which… — William Goldman Copy Share Image
