Westley: As you wish.
Valerie: Think it’ll work?
Miracle Max: It would take a miracle.
Vizzini: He didn’t fall? Inconceivable!
Inigo Montoya: You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.
Buttercup: We’ll never survive.
Westley: Nonsense, you only say that because nobody ever has.
Grandson: Is this a kissing book?
Inigo Montoya: My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.
Westley: Life is pain, Highness! Anyone who says otherwise is selling something.
Vizzini: No more rhymes now, I mean it.
Fezzik: Anybody want a peanut?
Westley: We are men of action; lies do not become us.
Inigo Montoya: Who are you?
Westley: No one of consequence.
Inigo Montoya: I must know.
Westley: Get used to disappointment.
Wesley: Ha! Your pig fiance is too late!
Westley: Give us the gate key.
Yellin: I have no gate key.
Inigo Montoya: Fezzik, tear his arms off.
Yellin: Oh, you mean *this* gate key.
Fezzik: We face each other as God intended. Sportsmanlike. No tricks, no weapons, skill against skill alone.
Man in Black: You mean, you’ll put down your rock and I’ll put down my sword, and we’ll try and kill each other like civilized people?
Westley: Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while.
Westley: I mean, if we only had a wheelbarrow, that would be something.
Inigo Montoya: Where we did we put that wheelbarrow the albino had?
Fezzik: Over the albino, I think.
Westley: Well, why didn’t you list that among our assets in the first place?
Buttercup: We’ll never succeed. We may as well die here.
Westley: No, no. We have already succeeded! I mean, what are the three terrors of the Fire Swamp? One, the flame spurt – no problem! There’s a popping sound preceding each; we can avoid that. Two, the lightning sand, which you were clever enough to discover what that looks like, so in the future we can avoid that too.
Buttercup: Westley, what about the R.O.U.S.’s?
Westley: Rodents Of Unusual Size? I don’t think they exist.
Miracle Max: Have fun stormin’ da castle!
Buttercup: You can’t hurt me. Westley and I are joined by the bonds of love. And you cannot track that, not with a thousand bloodhounds, and you cannot break it, not with a thousand swords.
Vizzini: Probably some local fisherman, out for a pleasure cruise, at night… in… eel-infested waters…
Prince Humperdinck: Tyrone, you know how much I love watching you work. But I’ve got my country’s 500th anniversary to plan, my wedding to arrange, my wife to murder, and Guilder to frame for it. I’m swamped!
Count Rugen: Get some rest. If you haven’t got your health, you haven’t got anything.
Inigo Montoya: I do not mean to pry, but you don’t by any chance happen to have six fingers on your right hand?
Westley: Do you always begin conversations this way?
Count Rugen: As you know, the concept of the suction pump is centuries old. And really, that’s all this is, except that instead of sucking water, I’m sucking life. I’ve just sucked one year of your life away. I might one day go as high as five, but I really don’t know what that would do to you, so let’s just start with what we have. What did this do to you? Tell me. And remember, this is for posterity, so… be honest. How do you feel?
Inigo Montoya: You seem a decent fellow, I hate to kill you.
Westley: You seem a decent fellow, I hate to die.
Inigo Montoya: Do you hear that Fezzik? That is the sound of ultimate suffering. My heart made that sound when the six-fingered man killed my father. The Man in Black makes it now.
Vizzini: Ha-ha, you fool! You fell victim to one of the classic blunders, the most famous of which 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!”