Abbie Cornish Monologues

And finally this question, the mystery of whose story it will be. Of who draws the curtain. Who is it that chooses our steps in the dance? Who drives us mad? Lashes us with whips and crowns us with victory when we survive the impossible? Who is it, that does all of these things?

Who honors those we love for the very life we live? Who sends monsters to kill us, and at the same time sings that we will never die? Who teaches us what's real and how to laugh at lies? Who decides why we live and what we'll die to defend? Who chains us? And who holds the key that can set us free… It's you. You have all the weapons you need. Now fight!

Everyone has an Angel. A Guardian who watches over us. We can't know what form they'll take. One day, old man. Next day, little girl. But don't let appearances fool you, they can be as fierce as any dragon. Yet they're not here to fight our battles, but to whisper from our heart. Reminding that it's us. Its everyone of us who holds power over the world we create.

You can deny angels exist, Convince ourselves they can't be real. But they show up anyway, at strange places and at strange times. They can speak through any character we can imagine. They'll shout through demons if they have to. Daring us, challenging us to fight.

All that gyrating and moaning… a dance should be about more than titillation. Mine is personal, it says who I am. What the heck does yours say?

There are armed guards everywhere! And if Blue finds out, we're dead!

Don't tell me. The priest brought you here from the orphanage to lose your virginity, right? Oh, let me rephrase that. To sell it.

She wasn't impressed. All that gyrating and moaning. The dance should be more than just titillation. Mine's personal. It says who I am. What the heck does yours say?