Lancelot: You look frightened. There's a large number of lonely men out there.
Guinevere: Don't worry, I won't let them rape you.
Cerdic: You come to beg a truce, you should be on your knees.
Arthur: I came to see your face so that I alone may find you on the battlefield. And you would do well to mark my face, Saxon, for the next time you see it, it will be the last thing you see on this earth.
Cerdic: Ahhh, finally, a man worth killing
Gawain: [after Tristan lands his dagger in the butt of Galahad's dagger] Tristan, how do you do that?
Tristan: I aim for the middle.
Bors: I like the little bastards. They mean something to me. Especially Number Three! He's a good fighter!
Lancelot: That's because he's mine.
Arthur: Pelagius told me once: "There is no worse death than the end of hope."
Guinevere: You and I are not the polite people that live in poems. We are blessed and cursed by our times.
Cerdic: Wherever I go on this wrenched island, I hear your name. Always half whispered, as if you were... a god. All I see is flesh, blood. No more god than the creature you're sitting on.
Gawain: I can't wait to leave this island. If it's not raining, it's snowing, and if it's not snowing, it's foggy.
Lancelot: And that's summer.
Lancelot: I will die in battle; that I am certain of. But I hope to die in a battle of my choosing. But if it is to be this one, do not bury me in our sad little cemetery. Burn me, and cast my ashes to a strong eastern wind.
Bors: Dagonet, she wants to get married and give the children names.
Tristan: Women! The children already have names, don't they?
Bors: Just Gilly. It's too much trouble so we gave the rest of them numbers.
Lancelot: That's interesting. I thought you couldn't count.
Guinevere: This is heaven for me.
Lancelot: I don't believe in Heaven, I've been living in this Hell. But if you represent what Heaven is, then take me there.
[it starts raining and snowing]
Lancelot: Rain and snow at once... a bad omen.
[last lines]
Lancelot: [voiceover] And as for the knights who gave their lives, their deaths were cause for neither mourning nor sadness. For they will live forever, their names and deeds handed down from father to son, mother to daughter, in the legends of King Arthur and his knights.
Tristan: We knights are blessed in that we do not run from it. We seek it, grasp it by the throat and demand honor in our passing.
Lancelot: Hey Bors. You intend to take Vanora and all your little bastards back home?
Bors: Oh I'm trying to avoid that decision... by getting killed.
Galahad: Imagine what a lovely, quiet place the world would be if everyone had their throats slit.
