Character: Lancelot

Now I know what to do. I used to never believe. Now I believe in Camelot. I will stand him in good stead, if you leave. Tell the king that I will always remember his confidence in me.
- What do I tell myself?
- Tell that was a man who loved you so much that he could not change.
- I will not forget...

Brother brother my whole life to death.

The Lord protect us all from this.
- But not me.
- But you're alive.
- Why?
- He made you just the way you are. A person who is scared of nobody and nothing. You have to use it. Because you could be dead too then, in that Church.
You know how many times I've dreamed about this?
- But you're not dead, you survived.
- Tell me how to live. I don't know.
- This is your life.
- Take her.

- "Helping each other, we become equal."
- That's the true heart of Camelot. Not these stones and wood, towers and palaces. Burn it all, and Camelot will live on. He lives in us. This is the faith that lives in our hearts.

I never wanted to kiss a beautiful woman. I have only one heart to lose it.

- Finally! Guinevere, my love.
- Can I help you?
Oh, my God. It is I, sir Lancelot. I found what I was looking for.
- I'm sorry. Sorry. Actually I'm not Guinevere. I Alice Eve, you probably have something confused.
- Your voice sounds like music, but thy words I did not understand.
- So. Hey, friend. Yeah, that's it. She says she's not Guinevere, and actress. Yes, and I'm an actor.
- Actor?
Yes. You know?
- Take it off.
- Yes, exactly. Hugh Jackman. It was in the crown.
- Oink?! Jackman?! Ridiculous name, Arthur! It is unlike the present! Only a coward would hide his true name.
- Hugh. Jackman.
So I got the treasure you were looking for, but couldn't find. Here it is. The key to eternal life.
- So. The costume ... I love the enthusiasm, but you have time to leave the stage. Sir Lancelot, ladies and gentlemen. Yes.
- Shame on you, Arthur! You are not worthy of the crown and unworthy of their Queen. Prepare to feel the cold kiss of my blade, Oink Jackman.
- Wait, dude, everything you see, is not real. Look here.
- It's fake.
- Like everyone here. It's not reality.
Is not the reality.
- This is a play, and we played most likely, but it's not reality.
- Not a reality. Not the reality?! Do you know how long I dreamed of Camelot?! What? And what? In vain!
- No, no. Please, return to your seats. I was trying to be polite, but enough is enough. Get off the stage now!
- Step aside, I'm not afraid, Oink Jackman.
Don't fight me or I'll rip you. Daaaaaay! Arrr!
- You what? What is it?
Is from Wolverine.
Yes.
- Whhhyy. Understand? Shirtless, with claws, you're cool.
- I agree.
- Lanselot!

I've never met a woman like you. I've met women who were happy that I'm defending them, but I've never met a women who would like to protect me.

In the Black mountains, not far from the hut of a woodcutter, is a huge cave. And in the cave this is a book, complaints book, written almost to the end. To it no one touches it, but page after page is added to written still increases each day. Who writes? The world! Written, recorded all the crimes of the criminals, all the misery suffering needlessly.