William Goldman | trust
William Goldman | trust Read More »
I’ve been saying it so long to you, you just wouldn’t listen. Every time you said ‘Farm Boy do this’ 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 you never heard.
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The Prince found Buttercup waiting unhappily outside his chamber doors.It’s my letter,’ she began. ‘I cannot make it right.’Come in, come in,’ the Prince said gently. ‘Maybe we can help you.’ She sat down in the same chair as before. ‘All right, I’ll close my eyes and listen; read to me.’Westley, my passion, my sweet, my only my own. Come back, come back. I shall kill myself otherwise. Yours in torment, Buttercup.’ She looked at Humperdinck. ‘Well? Do you think I’m throwing myself at him?
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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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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.)
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Iâm going to tell you something once and then whether you die is strictly up to you,” Westley said, lying pleasantly on the bed. “What Iâm going to tell you is this: drop your sword, and if you do, then I will leave with this baggage here”âhe glanced at Buttercupâ”and you will be tied up but not fatally, and will be free to go about your business. And if you choose to fight, well, then, we will not both leave alive.”You are only alive now because you said ‘to the pain.’ I want that phrase explained.”My pleasure. To the pain means this: if we duel and you win, death for me. If we duel and I win, life for you. But life on my terms. The first thing you lose will be your feet. Below the ankle. You will have stumps available to use within six months. Then your hands, at the wrists. They heal somewhat quicker. Five months is a fair average. Next your nose. No smell of dawn for you. Followed by your tongue. Deeply cut away. Not even a stump left. And then your left eyeâ”And then my right eye, and then my ears, and shall we get on with it?” the Prince said.Wrong!” Westleyâs voice rang across the room. “Your ears you keep, so that every shriek of every child shall be yours to cherishâevery babe that weeps in fear at your approach, every woman that cries ‘Dear God, what is that thing?’ will reverberate forever with your perfect ears. That is what ‘to the pain’ means. It means that I leave you in anguish, in humiliation, in freakish misery until you can stand it no more; so there you have it, pig, there you know, you miserable vomitous mass, and I say this now, and live or die, itâs up to you: Drop your sword!”The sword crashed to the floor.
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Do you love me, Westley? Is that it?â He couldnât believe it. âDo I love you? My God, if your love were a grain of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches. If your love wereââ âI donât understand the first one yet,â Buttercup interrupted. She was starting to get very excited now. âLet me get this straight. Are you saying my love is the size of a grain of sand and yours is this other thing? Images just confuse me soâis this universal business of yours bigger than my sand? Help me, Westley. I have the feeling weâre on the verge of something just terribly important.â âI have stayed these years in my hovel because of you. I have taught myself languages because of you. I have made my body strong because I thought you might be pleased by a strong body. I have lived my life with only the prayer that some sudden dawn you might glance in my direction. I have not known a moment in years when the sight of you did not send my heart careening against my rib cage. I have not known a night when your visage did not accompany me to sleep. There has not been a morning when you did not flutter behind my waking eyelidsâŠ.Is any of this getting through to you, Buttercup, or do you want me to go on for a while?â âNever stop.â âThere has not beenââ âIf youâre teasing me, Westley, Iâm just going to kill you.â âHow can you even dream I might be teasing?â âWell, you havenât once said you loved me.â âThatâs all you need? Easy. I love you. Okay? Want it louder? I love you. Spell it out, should I? I ell-oh-vee-ee why-oh-you. Want it backward? You love I.â âYou are teasing now; arenât you?â âA little maybe; Iâve been saying it so long to you, you just wouldnât listen. Every time you said âFarm boy do thisâ you thought I was answering âAs you wishâ but thatâs only because you were hearing wrong. âI love youâ was what it was, but you never heard, and you never heard.
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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.)
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