William Goldman Quotes
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Let me get this thing straight, Inigo--we had SCRAPS for dinner? I'M in YOUR fantasy and the best you can come up with is SCRAPS?" She turned toward the door then. "You have no chance of winning my heart.
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One way an author dies a little each day is when his books go out of print.
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"We’ll never survive!” “Nonsense. You’re only saying that because no one ever has."
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Get used to disappointment.
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Inconceivable!" "You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.
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When I was your age, television was called books.
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You're an enemy of art and I pity your ignorance," Domingo said.
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You have to protect your writing time. You have to protect it to the death.
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Look, are you just fiddling around with me or what?" "I just want you to feel you're doing well. I hate for people o die embarrassed.
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There is one crucial rule that must be followed in all creative meetings. Never speak first. At least at the start, your job is to shut up.
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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. And although you are physically by yourself, the haunting Demon never leaves you, that Demon being the knowledge of your own terrible limitations, your hopeless inadequacy, the impossibility of ever getting it right. No matter how diamond-bright your ideas are dancing in your brain, on paper they are earthbound.
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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.
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You could concentrate much more deeply when you were alone with agony.
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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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You don't want to be rude but you have to be careful - there are a lot of strange people out there. (Goldman attributes this quote to Cliff Robertson.)
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You have a dizzying intellect.
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I must be overtired', Buttercup managed. 'The excitement and all.' 'Rest then', her mother cautioned. 'Terrible things can happen when you're overtired. I was overtired the night your father proposed.
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The enemy is always in the mind.
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When I left you, you were already more beautiful than anything I dared to dream. In our years apart, my imaginings did their best to improve on your perfection. At night, your face was forever behind my eyes. And now I see that that vision who kept me company in my loneliness was a hag compared to the beauty now before me.
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Westley: This is true love — you think this happens every day?