Commudus: A General who became a slave, a slave who became a Gladiator, a Gladiator who defied an empire.

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Maximus: It’s the frost, it sometimes makes the blade stick.

Quintus: These barbarians would rather drown in blood than yield an inch. If I didn’t hate them so much I would admire them.

Marcus: Maximus, you prove your valor again. Let us hope for the final time here.
Maximus: I don’t think there’s anyone left to fight.
Marcus: There are always people left to fight.

Quintus: People should know when they’re conquered.
Maximus: Would you, Quintus? Would I?

Proximo: Some of you are thinking that you won’t fight. Others, that you can’t fight. They all say that until they’re out there. Listen. Thrust this into another man’s flesh. They will applaud and love you for that. And you, you may begin to love them for that. Ultimately we’re all dead men. Sadly, we cannot choose how, but we can decide how we meet that end, in order that we are remembered as men.