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Monologue Quotes

Browse 16 quotes about Monologue.

Monologue Quotes

“I've never met someone who is so perfectly my favorite person. When I think about being with you every day, no part of me feels claustrophobic. And when I think about having to have the kinds of fights with you that Naomi and I used to have, there's nothing scary about it. Because I trust you, more than I've ever trusted anyone - The world looks different than I ever thought it could be, and I don't want to look for what's broken or what could go wrong. I don't want to brace myself for the worst and miss out on being with you. I want to be the one who gives you what you deserve - and I don't think I ever could deserve any of that, and I know this things between us isn't a sure thing, but that's what I want to aim for with you. Because I know no matter how long I get to love you, it will be worth whatever comes after.”

LoveRomancePassionTrustDeclaration Of LoveMonologue
Book:Beach Read
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“Ay, that I had not done a thousand more. Even now I curse the day—and yet, I think, Few come within the compass of my curse,— Wherein I did not some notorious ill, As kill a man, or else devise his death, Ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it, Accuse some innocent and forswear myself, Set deadly enmity between two friends, Make poor men's cattle break their necks; Set fire on barns and hay-stacks in the night, And bid the owners quench them with their tears. Oft have I digg'd up dead men from their graves, And set them upright at their dear friends' doors, Even when their sorrows almost were forgot; And on their skins, as on the bark of trees, Have with my knife carved in Roman letters, 'Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead.' Tut, I have done a thousand dreadful things As willingly as one would kill a fly, And nothing grieves me heartily indeed But that I cannot do ten thousand more.”

EvilSpeechInsultVillainBragGallowsFinal WordsMonologueTauntMoor
Book:Titus Andronicus
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“I am as silent as death. Do this: Go to your bedroom. Your nice, safe, warm bedroom that is not a glass coffin behind a morgue door. Lie down on your bed not made of ice. Stick your fingers in your ears. Do you hear that? The pulse of life from your heart, the slow in-and-out from your lungs? Even when you are silent, even when you block out all noise, your body is still a cacophony of life. Mine is not. It is the silence that drives me mad. The silence that drives the nightmares to me. Because what if I am dead? How can someone without a beating heart, without breathing lungs live like I do? I must be dead. And this is my greatest fear: After 301 years, when they pull my glass coffin from this morgue, and they let my body thaw like chicken meat on the kitchen counter, I will be just like I am now. I will spend all of eternity trapped in my dead body. There is nothing beyond this. I will be locked within myself forever. And I want to scream. I want to throw open my eyes wake up and not be alone with myself anymore, but I can't. I can't.”

BeautifulFearHopelessnessMonologue
Book:Across the Universe
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“It is quite beautiful, that level of death, although to some it could be considered nightmarish. Whatda see old pal? Do you see death? Is he waiting at your doorstep for you and ya kin? Does he carrya scythe? Is he hooded like the healers? Or are you fortunate enough to gaze upon his face? Do you see an old, wrinkled man there? Eyes the only thing darker than his skin, with his hair in stark contrast? You kow what they say, black isn’t a colour, but a shade. Void of all colour, just like my pal there is void of all life. Or do you see a young man hell bent on revenge, trying to bring a loved one back from the grave? Trying so hard he will put every living soul in the ground to lift his love out of it? Is he pissed off that he can grant death, but the one thing he wants, life, is out of his grasp? Does he speak to you at night? When you sleep, with all the lights out, does he glide silently to your bedside and touch you? Does it hurt? Or do you not feel anything, just close your eyes and never open them again? Do you fear death, Steven?”

DeathFearFearfulFear QuotesDeath QuotesGrim ReaperThe CommunityMonologue
Book:The Community: A Funny and Disturbing Conspiracy Mystery Novel
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“Ah yes, of course, Spiders. Is it their size? Do you fear the ones you cannot see, dunnot sense until they bite you and you die a horrible, painful death? Or would you prefer a giant, fist-sized one? One that towers above buildings like in an old shit-show production? I quite think you would. Now personally, one of my least favourite thing about spiders is their fangs. You see, their fangs are a mixture of rat’s fur and small dragon teeth. They manage to be sharp, deadly, and disgustingly hairy. Oh, and the colour of death. It makes me shiver just to think about those pincers closing in on a nice, fleshy, alive part of my body. I do think I’d be forced to amputate or decapitate. Possibly both.” "Anywhore, their fangs aren’t what get most people. It’s their eyes. Kinda creepy, don’t ya think? We have two, they have….well, too many ov’em. Would you like to see yourself reflected umpteenth times in a spider’s trippily reflective little eyes? Right before they smile and their fangs grab ya that is. No? I should hope not. You also have the venom and that shifty way they move to consider. Venom can kill anything, no matter how tough or large they are. And the whole eight legs shuffly shifty quicky thing just spooks the shit outta me mate. Death and spiders. They’re pretty much the same thing to some. Some being me, of course. Then again, I’m quite normal.”

DeathFearFearfulSpidersFear QuotesFangsSpiderMonologue
Book:The Community: A Funny and Disturbing Conspiracy Mystery Novel
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“It doesn't seem like you're living a life, it's almost like you're travelling on a train with the destination unknown. You're sitting on a seat near the window looking outside, imagining how things are there outside, how is it like to live in the houses that you pass by. And when you’re busy noticing the outside, you at times do not pay heed to your surroundings inside the coach. And thus some passengers who got down at a station midway fail to capture your interest, or maybe it is because of your deviation of interest towards the outside. While at other stops new people get up, and you like their company, you share and you laugh. But sooner or later they get down. Because it's your journey, you're the traveler and they just accompany you for some distances. And then, maybe when you reach your destination there will still be passengers in the train, passengers you've mingled with or passengers you hate, people who were there since the train had started or people who got in just before the last stoppage, and like it or not, they will get off the train with you, at your destination which also proved to be there destination.”

PeopleWorldLoveLifeLongRealityEarthTogetherCompanyJourneyTrainSelf RealizationAloneDestinationCompanionCrowdObserveNoticeMonologue
Author:Sanhita Baruah
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“I see it all. I feel it all. I am inspired. My eyes fill with tears. Yet even as I feel this. I lash my frenzy higher and higher. It foams. It becomes artificial, insincere. Words and words and words, how they gallop - how they lash their long manes and tails, but for some fault in me I cannot fly with them, scattering women and string bags. There is some flaw in me - some fatal hesitancy, which, if I pass it over, turns to foam and falsity”

WritingLiteratureWomenNovelNarrativeDescriptiveMonologue
Book:The Waves
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“The perfect being, huh? There is no such thing as perfect in this world. That may sound cliché, but it’s the truth. The average person admires perfection and seeks to obtain it. But, what’s the point of achieving perfection? There is none. Nothing. Not a single thing. I loathe perfection! If something is perfect, then there is nothing left. There is no room for imagination. No place left for a person to gain additional knowledge or abilities. Do you know what that means? For scientists such as ourselves, perfection only brings despair. It is our job to create things more wonderful than anything before them, but never to obtain perfection. A scientist must be a person who finds ecstasy while suffering from that antimony. In short, the moment that foolishness left your mouth and reached my ears, you had already lost. Of course, that’s assuming you are a scientist”

DeathPerfectionScientistMadnessMadBleachCaptainMonologueKurotsuchiMayuri
Author:Tite Kubo
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“La vie n'est pas un monologue théâtral. Les grands discours ne mènent nulle part, c'est juste un act s'ils ne conduisent pas pas à pas, à commencer à agir, s'il n'y a aucune action dessus. Ne confondez pas être solidaire et solitaire.”

ActionTheatreDiscourseActVieBonheurMonologueSolitaireAgirSolidaire
Book:L'ABC du bonheur et bonne humeur: Conseils pour une vie pleine de joie et briser les barrières qui vous séparent d'obtenir ce travail si rêvé
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“Acum se uită toți la ea, o evaluează după picioare și țâțe. Abia așteaptă să îmbătrânească odată, să nu mai vrea nimeni să pună mâna pe ea, să nu-i mai deschidă nimeni ușa și să nu-i mai pupe nimeni mâna, să nu-i mai aprindă nimeni țigara - iar dacă se ferește, s-o considere agresivă și s-o taxeze drept feministă, cuvânt injurios, că alea nu vor să fie femei, vor să fie bărbați. Să nu mai trebuiască să stea la locul ei și să-și cunoască lungul nasului, să nu se mai simtă datoare să zâmbească politicos la aluziile porcoase. Să aibă varice și păr pe față, să nu se mai excite nimeni uitându-se la sânii ei căzuți - atunci o să fie liberă și urâtă. Dar tot n-o să fie decât o femeie demnă de dispreț, fiindcă femeile nu au voie să fie urâte, numai bărbații pot să pută, sa-și lase burtă și să umble în maiouri scârboase peste pieptul păros, să râgâie, să se scarpine între picioare și să chelească.”

FeminismPatriarchyQueerBeauty StandardsInner ThoughtsMonologue
Book:ca și cum nimic nu s-ar fi întâmplat
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“What I inherited from my father is the need to drink. But not regular alcohol of course. I developed a taste for a very special wine called hatred." Jarley takes his glass of wine as he explains. "It's a bitter wine. So bitter in fact, that the uninitiated will spit it out or feel physically ill from drinking it. But some who partake in it will find little nuances to the flavor. The tangy aftertaste of indulging in violent fantasies against the object of your hatred." He shakes the glass as he speaks. "The warm buzzed feeling from acts of spite and violence towards what you hate." He savors the smell of the wine. "It keeps getting more noticeable the more you drink. You keep going and going, drinking and drinking, you pick apart all the layers of taste until you finally find it." He takes a sip. "There's a hint of sweetness in the wine. You've found a sort of warm joy and comfort in the compulsion to detest the object of your hatred. Once that happens, there's no going back. You'll be hooked on the drink for life.”

PhilosophyDramaticVillainOld WestBackstoryMonologue
Book:Reaper's Dice
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“If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle: I remember The first time ever Caesar put it on; 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent, That day he overcame the Nervii: Look, in this place ran Cassius' dagger through: See what a rent the envious Casca made: Through this well-beloved Brutus stabb'd; And as he pluck'd his cursed steel away, Mark how the blood of Caesar follow'd it, As rushing out of doors, to be resolved If Brutus so unkindly knock'd, or no; For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel: Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him! This was the most unkindest cut of all; For when the noble Caesar saw him stab, Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms, Quite vanquishi'd him: then burst his mighty heart; And, in his mantle muffling up his face, Even at the base of Pompey's statua, Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell.”

FuneralAntonyMonologue
Book:Julius Caesar
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