"In a land of timeless beauty, William Wallace was a man of peace. But when a ruthless king threatened his home, and murdered the woman he loved, William Wallace was driven to war...and to win for his people something they never dreamed of having. Their own country. (from theatrical trailer)"

"His passion captivated a queen. His courage inspired a nation. His heart defied an empire."

"What gives men the will to fight hard...the passion to bleed long...the strength to die well?"

"Every man dies. Not every man really lives."

"Your heart is free. Have the courage to follow it."

"After the beheading, William Wallace's body was torn to pieces. His head was set on London Bridge, his arms and legs sent to the four corners of Britain as a warning. It did not have the effect that Longshanks planned. And I, Robert the Bruce, rode out to pay homage to the armies of the English King and accept his endorsement of my crown."

"Many years later, Edward the Longshanks, King of England, supervised the wedding of his eldest son, who would succeed him to the throne. As bride for his son, Longshanks had chosen the daughter of his rival: the King of France. It was widely whispered, that for the princess to conceive, Longshanks would have to do the honors himself. That may have been what he had in mind all along."

"I shall tell you of William Wallace. Historians from England will say I am a liar, but history is written by those who have hanged heroes. The King of Scotland had died without a son and the King of England, a cruel pagan known as Edward the Longshanks, claimed the throne of Scotland for himself. Scotland's nobles fought him, and fought each other, over the crown. So Longshanks invited them to talks of truce — no weapons, one page only. Among the farmers of that shire was Malcolm Wallace, a commoner with his own lands. He had two sons, John and William."

"The trouble with Scotland...is that it's full of Scots!"

"Someday, you will be king, at least try to act like one!"

"Bring me Wallace, alive if possible, dead ... just as good."

"I gave Mornay double his lands in Scotland, matching estates in England. Lochlan turned for... for much less."

"Not the archers. My scouts tell me their archers are miles away and no threat to us. Arrows cost money. Use up the Irish. The dead cost nothing."

"In the year of our Lord 1314, patriots of Scotland, starving and outnumbered, charged the fields of Bannockburn. They fought like warrior poets. They fought like Scotsmen. And won their freedom."

"I'm so afraid. Give me the strength to die well."

"I am William Wallace! The rest of you will be spared. Go back to England, and tell them there, that Scotland's daughters and her sons are yours no more! Tell them Scotland is free!"

"The Bradley name gets heavy billing on a picture of [a] comrade that, while not caricature, is the likeness of a victorious, glory-seeking buffoon … Patton in the flesh was an enigma. He so stays in the film. … Napoleon once said that the art of the general is not strategy but knowing how to mold human nature … Maybe that is all producer Frank McCarthy and Gen. Bradley, his chief advisor, are trying to say. And maybe, just maybe, obsequious sycophants should not be allowed to lead armies."

"The epic American war movie that Hollywood has always wanted to make but never had the guts to do before."

"The most refreshing thing about "Patton" is that here — I think for the first time — the subject matter and the style of the epic war movie are perfectly matched. War was, for Patton, his destiny and sometimes great fun. Thus the big, magnificently staged battle scenes (photographed in marvelous, clear, deep focus), are not giving the lie to a film that, like "The Longest Day," would have us believe piously that war is hell. … Although the cast is large, the only performance of note is that of Scott, who is continuously entertaining and, occasionally, very appealing. He dominates the film, even its ambiguities, although he never quite convinced me that Patton, by any stretch of the imagination, could be called a rebel against anything except the good, gray, dull forces of bleeding heart liberalism."

"[voiceover in the wake of his relief from Third Army] For over a thousand years, Roman conquerors returning from the wars enjoyed the honor of a triumph — a tumultuous parade. In the procession came trumpeters and musicians and strange animals from the conquered territories, together with carts laden with treasure and captured armaments. The conqueror rode in a triumphal chariot, the dazed prisoners walking in chains before him. Sometimes his children, robed in white, stood with him in the chariot, or rode the trace horses. A slave stood behind the conqueror, holding a golden crown, and whispering in his ear a warning — that all glory is fleeting."

"[to staff, noting the obvious lack of German activity as winter sets in] There's absolutely no reason for us to assume the Germans are mounting a major offensive. The weather is awful, Their supplies are low, and the German army hasn't mounted a winter offensive since the time of Frederick the Great — therefore I believe that's exactly what they're going to do."

"[commenting to an aide, while reviewing a battle site the morning after] Fixed fortifications are man's monument to stupidity. When mountain ranges and oceans can be overcome, anything built by man can be overcome. You know how I know that they're finished out there? The carts. They're using carts to lug their supplies and wounded. In my dreams I saw the carts. They kept buzzing around in my head and I couldn't figure out why. Then I remembered: the nightmare in the snow -- the endless, agonizing retreat from Moscow. God the cold! The wounded, and what was left of the supplies, were thrown into carts. Napoleon was finished. No color left, not even the red of blood. Only snow."

"[ranting about being assigned to lead the First United States Army Group I feel I am destined to achieve some great thing — what, I don't know. But this last incident is so trivial in its nature and so terrible in its effect — it can't be the result of an accident. It has to be the work of God. The last great opportunity of a lifetime — an entire world at war and I'm left out of it? God will not permit this to happen! I will be allowed to fulfill my destiny! … His will be done."

"[addressing 7th Army troops in an apology about the soldier-slapping incident] At ease.[Long pause] I thought I would stand up here and let you people see if I am as big of a son-of-a-bitch as some of you think I am. [Troops laugh] I assure you I had no intention of being either harsh or cruel in my treatment of the soldier in question. My sole purpose was to try and to restore him some appreciation of his obligation as a man, and as a soldier. If one can shame a coward, I felt, one might help him regain his self-respect. This was on my mind. Now I freely admit that my method was wrong, but I hope you can understand my motive, and will accept this explanation, and this apology. Dismissed."

"[writing about the death of his favorite aide, Captain Richard N. "Dick" Jenson, at the Battle of El Guettar] Captain Richard N. Jenson was a fine boy. Loyal, unselfish, and efficient. I am terribly sorry. There are no coffins here since there's no wood. We will have a trumpeter and an honor guard, but we will not fire the volleys, as it would make people think an air raid was on. I enclosed a lock of Dick's hair in a letter to his mother. He was a fine man and a fine officer. And he had no vices. I shall miss him a lot. I can't see the reason such fine young men get killed. There are so many battles yet to fight."

"[seeing his troops rout General Erwin Rommel's 21st Panzer Division at El Guettar] Rommel... you magnificent bastard, I read your book!"

"[to Omar Bradley while visiting the ruins of Carthage] It was here. The battlefield was here. The Carthaginians defending the city were attacked by three Roman Legions. The Carthaginians were proud and brave but they couldn't hold. They were massacred. The Arab women stripped them of the tunics and swords and lances. And the soldiers lay naked in the sun. Two-thousand years ago. I was here. You don't believe me, do you, Brad? You know what the poet said:"