Just because you're beautiful and perfect, it's made you conceited.

Enough about my beauty," Buttercup said. "Everybody always talks about how beautiful I am. I've got a mind, Westley. Talk about that.

She had never looked as well. She had entered her room as just an impossibly lovely girl. The woman who emerged was a trifle thinner, a great deal wiser, an ocean sadder. This one understood the nature of pain, and beneath the glory of her features, there was character, and a sure knowledge of suffering.

For you see each day I love you more today more than yesterday and less than tomorrow. Just because you're beautiful and perfect, it's made you conceited.