“He was the mighty Fezzik, lover of rhymes, and you did not give up, no matter what.”

“What does it matter how many lovers you have if none of them gives you the universe? ”

“I understand everything,” he said.“You understand nothing, but it really doesn’t matter, since what you mean is, you’re glad to see me, just as I’m glad to see you because no more loneliness.”“That’s what I mean,” said Fezzik.”

“He can give me what you cannot. Death is not a lover. Oh yes, he is.”

“Before I know what he's up to, he grabs my hand. Hey! I try to pull it away but he holds it even tighter. Saba, he says, I dunno what happy star sent you lookin fer me but I'm mighty thankful it did. If you hadn't of turned up, I'd be dead by now.”

“The flower bloomed and faded. The sun rose and sank. The lover loved and went. And what the poets said in rhyme, the young translated into practice.”