I Don't Like Killing A Girl," The

I Mean If We Even Had A Wheelbarrow, That Would Be Something.

The Tears That Kept Buttercup Company The Remainder Of The Day Were Not At All Like Those That Had Blinded Her Into The Tree Trunk. Those Were Noisy And Hot; They Pulsed. These Were Silent And Steady And All They Did Was Remind Her That She Wasn’t Good Enough. She Was Seventeen, And Every Male She’d Ever Known Had Crumbled At Her Feet And It Meant Nothing. The One Time It Really Mattered, She Wasn’t Good Enough.

You Have A Dizzying Intellect.

Life Isn't Fair. It's Just Fairer Than Death, That's All.

The First Morning After Westley's Departure, Buttercup Thought She Was Entitled To Do Nothing More Than Sit Around Moping And Feeling Sorry For Herself. After All, The Love Of Her Life Had Fled, Life Had No Meaning, How Could You Face The Future, Et Cetera, Et Cetera.