A Knight's Tale (2001)

William: If I could ask God one thing, it would be to stop the moon. Stop the moon and make this night and your beauty last forever.

Jocelyn: I demand poetry, and when I want it, and I want it now.
William: Your breasts... they're beneath your throat.

Chaucer: There she is, William. The embodiment of love. Your Venus.
William: And how I hate her.

Chaucer: Now I got their attention, you go and win their hearts.

Jocelyn: Better a silly girl with a flower than a silly boy with a horse and a stick.
Wat: It's called a lance. Hello?

Wat: We're English, Geoff! We know who he is.

William: Where will we live? In my hovel? With the pigs inside during the winter so they won't freeze?
Jocelyn: Yes, William. With the pigs.

Wat: You have been weighed.
Roland: You have been measured.
Kate: And you have absolutely.
Chaucer: Been found wanting.
William: Welcome to New World. God save you, if it is right that He should do so.

Chaucer: I give the truth, scope.

Chaucer: It's a small target Will, but aim for his heart.

Adhemar: You have been weighed, you have been measured, and you have been found wanting. In what world could you possibly beat me?

Chaucer: Are you mad? You knowingly endanger a member of the royal family?
William: He knowingly endangers himself.

Adhemar: Why didn't Ulrich finish him?
Jocelyn: He shows mercy.
Adhemar: Then he shows his weakness - that is all mercy is.

Chaucer: Yes, Master Falhurst, I'm well aware a good fawning is on the way.

Young William Thacher: Some day, I'll be a knight.
Man in Stocks: A Thachers son? A knight? You might as well try to change the stars.
Young William Thacher: Can it be done father? Can a man change the stars?
John Thatcher: Yes William. If he believes enough, a man can do anything.

Adhemar: And how would you beat him?
Retired Knight: With a stick. While he slept. But on a horse, with a lance? That man is unbeatable.

William: Well then a fox you shall be until I find your name, my foxy lady.

William: Your name lady, I still need to hear it.
Jocelyn: Sir hunter, you persist.
William: Or perhaps angels have no names, only beautiful faces.

William: Love has given me wings so I must fly.

William: You favour cathedrals.
Jocelyn: I come for confession. And the glass... a riot of color in a dreary, grey world.