Grandpa: [narrating] Nothing gave Buttercup as much pleasure as ordering Westley around.
Buttercup: Farm boy, polish my horse's saddle. I want to see my face shining in it by morning.
Westley: As you wish.
Grandpa: [narrating] "As you wish" was all he ever said to her.
Buttercup: Farm boy, fill these with water - please.
Westley: As you wish.

Buttercup: You can die too for all I care!
Westley: As... you... wish!
Buttercup: Oh my Westley! What have I done?

The Grandson: Is this a kissing book?
Grandpa: Wait, just wait.
The Grandson: Well, when does it get good?
Grandpa: Keep your shirt on, and let me read.

Westley: Look. Are you just fiddling around with me or what?
Fezzik: I just want you to feel you're doing well. I hate for people to die embarrassed.

Prince Humperdinck: This is your last chance! Surrender now!
Westley: Death! First!

Inigo Montoya: Excuse... Excuse me... Excuse me... Fezzik, please?
Fezzik: EVERYBODY... MOVE! [everybody parts, path is clear]
Inigo Montoya: Thank you.

Westley: Hear this now. I will always come for you.
Buttercup: But how can you be sure?
Westley: This is true love. You think this happens every day?

Westley: I told you I would always come for you. Why didn't you wait for me?
Buttercup: Well... you were dead.
Westley: Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while.
Buttercup: I will never doubt again.
Westley: There will never be a need.

You rush a miracle man, you get rotten miracles.

Miracle Max

Buttercup: [kisses senile King]
The King: What was that for?
Buttercup: Because you have always been so kind to me, and I won't be seeing you again since I'm killing myself once we reach the honeymoon suite.
The King: Won't that be nice. She kissed me!

Vizzini: A word, my lady. We are but poor, lost circus performers. Is there a village nearby?
Buttercup: There is nothing nearby... Not for miles.
Vizzini: Then there will be no one to hear you scream.

Fezzik: You never said anything about killing anyone.
Vizzini: I've hired you to help me start a war. It's an prestigious line of work. A long and glorious tradition.
Fezzik: I just don't think it's right, killing an innocent girl.
Vizzini: Am I going mad, or did the word "think" escape your lips? You were not hired for your brains, you hippopotamic land mass.
Inigo Montoya: I agree with Fezzik.
Vizzini: Oh, the sot has spoken. What happens to her is not truly your concern. I will kill her. And remember this, never forget this: when I found you, you were so slobbering drunk, you couldn't buy brandy! And you... Friendless, brainless, helpless, hopeless! Do you want me to send you back to where you were? Unemployed in Greenland!

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