The Princess Bride - Pg 56

   In point of fact, 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.    She was eighteen. She was the most beautiful woman in a hundred years. She didn't seem to care.   "You're all right?" her mother asked.   Buttercup sipped her cocoa. "Fine," she said.   "You're sure?" her father wondered.   "Yes," Buttercup replied. There was a very long pause. "But I must never love again."
   She never did.