William: Father, I am afraid, I won't know the way back home.
John Thatcher: Don't be foolish, William, you just follow your feet.

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.

William: This is a disaster.
Roland: [staring at the tent material] Nah, I think it'll tunic up quite nicely.

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

William: I'll ride in his place.
Roland: What's your name, William? I'm asking you William Thatcher, to answer me with your name? It's not Sir William. It's not count, or duke or earl William. It's certainly not King William.
William: I'm aware of that.
Roland: You have to be of noble birth to compete!
William: A detail. The landscape is food. Do you want to eat or don't you?
Roland: If the nobles find out who you are there'll be the devil to pay.
William: Then pray that they don't.

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.

Chaucer: All human activity lies within the artist's scope.
[Looks at Wat]
Chaucer: Maybe not yours.

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A Knight's Tale Quotes

William: Oi sir, what are you doing?
Chaucer: Uh... trudging. You know, trudging?
Chaucer: To trudge: the slow, weary, depressing yet determined walk of a man who has nothing left in life except the impulse to simply soldier on.
William: Uhhh... were you robbed?
Chaucer: [laughs] Funny really, yes, but at the same time a huge resounding no. It's more of an... involuntary vow of poverty... really.

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?