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

Adhemar

Chaucer: I'm a writer.
Wat: A what?
Chaucer: A wha- a what? A writer. I write, with parchment, and ink. Geoffrey Chaucer's the name, writing's the game. You've read my book? the Book of the Duchess? No? Well, it was allegorical.
Roland: Well, we won't hold that against you, that's for every man to decide for himself.

Chaucer: Yes, behold my lord Ulrich, the rock, the hard place, like a wind from Guilderland he sweeps by blown far from his homeland in search of glory and honor, we walk in the garden of his turbulence.
[crowd is silent, cricket noise]
Roland: Yeah.
Crowd: Yeahhhhh!

Wat: What do you mean, dead?
Roland: The spark of his life is smothered in shite. His spirit is gone but his stench remains. Does that answer your question?

William: I can't explain it. She makes me feel like a poet.
Roland: Well you may feel like a poet, but you sound like an idiot. You don't even know her name.

Kate: It is romantic though.
Roland: Are you a woman or a blacksmith?
Kate: Sometimes I'm both.

William: [on asking Kate to mend his armor] It's just as well, they said I was daft for even asking.
Kate: Who?
William: The other armorers.
Kate: Is it because I'm a woman?
William: No, that said you were great with horseshoes, but shite with armor. The fact that you were a woman wasn't even mentioned.

Wat: I don't understand women.
Chaucer: Nor do I. But they understand us. Well, maybe not you.

William: I've waited my whole life for this moment.
Wat: You've waited your whole life for Sir Ector to shite himself to death?

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

Jocelyn: Your name makes no matter to me, so long as I may call you my own.
William: Oh, but I am your own, Jocelyn.

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

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A Knight's Tale Quotes

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

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.