Brad Pitt Monologues

I'm steady, calm. I slept well, no bad dreams. I am active and engaged. I'm aware of my surroundings and those in my immediate sphere. I'm attentive. I am focused on the essentials, to the exclusion of all else. I'm unsure of the future but I'm not concerned. I will rely on those closest to me, and I will share their burdens, as they share mine. I will live and love.

So many times in my life I screwed up: I've talked when I should've listened, I've been harsh when I should've been tender.

He captured strange and distant worlds in greater detail than ever before. They were beautiful, magnificent… full of awe and wonder. But beneath their sublime surfaces… there was nothing. No love or hate. No light or dark. He could only see what was not there… and missed what was right in front of him.

I am focused only on the essential, to the exclusion of all else.I will make only pragmatic decisions. I will not allow myself to be distracted. I will not allow my mind to linger on that which is unimportant. I will not rely on anyone or anything. I will not be vulnerable to mistakes.

In the end, the son suffers the sins of the father.

All the hopes we ever had for space travel... covered up by drink stands and t-shirt vendors. Just a recreation of what we're running from on Earth. We are world-eaters. If my dad could see this now... he'd tear it all down.

The zero G and the extended duration of the journey is affecting me both physically and mentally. I am alone. Something I always believed I preferred. I am alone. But I confess it's wearing on me. I am alone. I am alone.

The attack it was full of rage. I understand that rage. I've seen that rage in my father and I've seen that rage in me. Because I'm angry that he took off. He left us. You know but when I look at that anger, if I push it aside and just put it away all I see is hurt. I just see pain. I think it keeps me walled off walled off from relationships and opening myself up and, you know, really caring for someone. And I don't know how to get past that.I don't know how to get around that. And it worries me. And I don't wanna be that guy. I don't wanna be my dad.

He captured strange and distant worlds in greater detail than ever before. They were beautiful, magnificent, full of awe and wonder. But beneath their sublime surfaces there was nothing. No love or hate. No light or dark. He could only see what was not there and missed what was right in front of him.

I see myself from the outside. Smile, present a side. It's a performance with my eye on the exit. Always on the exit. Just don't touch me.

I've been trained to compartmentalize. It seems to me that's how I approach my life.

A self-destructive side. That's what she used to say to me. I should feel something.

My destination. Seven weeks since Earth. Since air, since sun... trees and birds.

Captain, I have a small oxygen leak in my suit, I'm just gonna check my patch.

I never told you, but I was married once before.

Your aim's as bad as your cooking sweetheart... and that's saying something!

We have an unusual problem here, Jane. You obviously want me dead, and I'm less and less concerned for your well-being.

How many? Ok… I'll go first, then. I don't keep exact count, but I'd say, uh, high 50s, low 60s. I mean, I know I've been around the block an all, but…

Option A: You talk, we listen, no pain. Option B: You don't talk, I remove your thumbs with my pliers, it will hurt. Option C: I like to vary the details a bit but the punchline is... you die.

I guess that's what happens in the end, you start thinking about the beginning.

I realise you witnessed the Mrs. and I working through a few domestic issues. That's regrettable but don't take that to be a sign of weakness, that would be a mistake on your part.

OK, I'll go first. Um… Let me say, uh, we don't really need to be here. See, we've been married for five years.

We're going to have to re-do every conversation we've ever had.

Did you hear the helicopter dropping me off that night for our anniversary dinner?

Three ribs. Broken eye socket. Perforated eardrum.

I'm in love. She's smart, sexy. She's uninhibited, spontaneous, complicated. She's the sweetest thing I've ever seen.

I'll tell you a secret. Something they don't teach you in your temple. The Gods envy us. They envy us because we're mortal, because any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.

You gave me peace in a lifetime of war.

You're still my enemy in the morning.

Imagine a king who fights his own battles. Wouldn't that be a sight?

Myrmidons! My brothers of the sword! I would rather fight beside you than any army of thousands! Let no man forget how menacing we are, we are lions! Do you know what's waiting beyond that beach? Immortality! Take it! It's yours!

Go home, prince. Drink some wine, make love to your wife. Tomorrow, we'll have our war.

Perhaps your brother can comfort them. I hear he's good at charming other men's wives.

There are no pacts between lions and men.

Now you know who you're fighting.

You gave him the honor of your sword. You won't have eyes tonight; you won't have ears or a tongue. You will wander the underworld blind, deaf, and dumb, and all the dead will know: This is Hector. The fool who thought he killed Achilles.

At night I see their faces. All the men I've killed. They're standing there on the far bank of the river Styx. They're waiting for me. They say, 'Welcome, brother'.

It's too early in the day to be killing princes.

Of all the kings of Greece, I respect you most. But in this war you're a servant. And I refuse to be a servant any longer.

Trojan soldiers died protecting you. Perhaps they deserve more than your pity.

Get up, Prince of Troy! I won't let a stone rob me of my glory!

You're a good student, but you're not a Myrmidon yet. Look at these men, they are the fiercest soldiers in all of Greece, each of them has bled for me. You will guard the ship…

Cousin, I can't fight the Trojans if I'm concerned for you, guard the ship!

Yes, but who will you fight for when I'm gone? Soldiers fight for kings they've never even met. They fight when they're told to fight, they die when they're told to die.

So you want me to tell you the story of my life?

1791 was the year it happened. I was 24, younger than you are now. But times were different then, I was a man at that age: the master of a large plantation just south of New Orleans. I had lost my wife in childbirth, and she and the infant had been buried less than half a year. I would have been happy to join them. I couldn't bear the pain of their loss. I longed to be released from it. I wanted to lose it all... my wealth, my estate, my sanity. Most of all, I longed for death. I know that now. I invited it. A release from the pain of living. My invitation was open to anyone. To the whore at my side. To the pimp that followed. But it was a vampire that accepted it.

That morning I was not yet a vampire, and I saw my last sunrise. I remember it completely, and yet I can't recall any sunrise before it. I watched the whole magnificence of the dawn for the last time as if it were the first. And then I said farewell to sunlight, and set out to become what I became.

Bear me no ill will, my love, we are now even.

What died in that room was not that woman. What has died is the last breath in me that was human.

Her blood coursed through my veins, sweeter than life itself. And as it did, Lestat's words made sense to me. I knew peace only when I killed and when I heard her heart in that terrible rhythm, I knew again what peace could be.

How do we seem to you? Do you find us beautiful, magical? Our white skin, our fierce eyes? "Drink", you ask me, do you have any idea of the thing you will become?

In the spring of 1988, I returned to New Orleans, and as soon as I smelled the air, I knew I was home. It was rich, almost sweet, like the scent of jasmine and roses around our old courtyard. I walked the streets, savoring that long lost perfume.

You see that old woman? That will never happen to you. You will never grow old, and you will never die.

I'm flesh and blood, but not human. I haven't been human for two hundred years.

The statue seemed to move, but didn't. The world had changed, yet stayed the same. I was a newborn vampire weeping at the beauty of the night.

A little child she was, but also a fierce killer, now capable of the ruthless pursuit of blood with all a child's demanding.

So it was, when I'd given up the search for vampires, that a vampire found me.

But the world was a tomb to me, a graveyard of broken statues, and each of those statues resembled her face.

We searched village after village, country after country. And always we found nothing. I began to believe we were the only ones. There was a strange comfort in that thought. For what could the damned really have to say to the damned?

Thirty years had passed, yet her body remained that of an eternal child. Her eyes alone told the story of her age, staring out from under her doll-like curls, with a questioning that will one day need an answer.

We reached the Mediterranean. I wanted those waters to be blue, but they were black, nighttime waters, and how I suffered then, straining to recall the color that in my youth I had taken for granted.

Then out of curiosity, boredom, who knows what, I left the old world and came back to my America. And there, a mechanical wonder allowed me to see the sun rise for the first time in two hundred years. And what sunrises, seen as the human eye could never see them: silver at first, then, as the years progressed, in tones of purple, red, and my long lost blue.

For 30 years I had avoided that place. Yet I found my way back there with hardly an upward glance.

Though the fire seemed to spread through the quarter, I stood on that deck, fearful he would come out again from the very river, like some monster, to destroy us both. And all the while, I thought, 'Lestat, you deserve your vengeance. You gave me the dark gift, and I delivered you into the hands of death for the second time.'

I walked all night, I walked as I had walked years before when my mind swam with guilt at the thought of killing. I had thought of all the things I had done, and couldn't undo. And I longed for a moment's peace.

Blood, I was to find, was a necessity as well. I woke the next evening with a hunger I had never felt.

Lestat killed two, sometimes three a night. A fresh young girl, that was his favorite for the first of the evening. For seconds, he preferred a gilded beautiful youth. But the snob in him loved to hunt in society, and the blood of the aristocrat thrilled him best of all.

Whatever happened to Lestat I do not know. I go on, night after night. I feed on those who cross my path. But all my passion went with her golden hair. I'm a spirit of preternatural flesh. Detached. Unchangeable. Empty.

They know about us. They watch us dine on empty plates and drink from empty glasses.

Toscanini once recorded a piece sixty five times. You know what he said when he finished? "It could be better." Think about it. Think about it. Twenty-seven patents your father had. It means ownership, ownership of ideas. You gotta sew 'em up. Get them by the nuts if you pardon my French.

Your mother's naive. It takes fierce will to get ahead in this world. If you're good, people take advantage of you.

Be rich. You make yourself what you are. You have control of your own destiny. Can't say I can't. You see I'm having trouble. I'm not done yet. Can't say I can't.

I wanted to be loved cause I was great, a Big Man. Now I'm nothing. Look. The glory around... trees, birds... I dishonored it all and didn't notice the glory. A foolish man.

They're closing the plant. I was given this choice: no job or transfer to a job nobody wants.

You're all I have. You're all I want to have. You're a sweet boy.

The world lives by a trigger. If you want to succeed, you can't be too good!

You know Jack, all I ever wanted for you was to make you strong and grow up and be your own boss. Maybe I've been tough on you. I'm not proud of that.

It was about all I've done in life, otherwise I've drawn a zilch. You're all I have, you're all I want to have. My sweet boy.

My name is Lt. Aldo Raine and I'm putting together a special team, and I need me eight soldiers. Eight Jewish-American soldiers. Now, y'all might've heard rumors about the armada happening soon. Well, we'll be leaving a little earlier. We're gonna be dropped into France, dressed as civilians. And once we're in enemy territory, as a bushwhackin' guerrilla army, we're gonna be doin' one thing and one thing only... killin' Nazis. Now, I don't know about y'all, but I sure as hell didn't come down from the goddamn Smoky Mountains, cross five thousand miles of water, fight my way through half of Sicily and jump out of a fuckin' air-o-plane to teach the Nazis lessons in humanity. Nazi ain't got no humanity. They're the foot soldiers of a Jew-hatin', mass murderin' maniac and they need to be dee-stroyed. That's why any and every son of a bitch we find wearin' a Nazi uniform, they're gonna die. Now, I'm the direct descendant of the mountain man Jim Bridger. That means I got a little Injun in me. And our battle plan will be that of an Apache resistance. We will be cruel to the Germans, and through our cruelty they will know who we are. And they will find the evidence of our cruelty in the disemboweled, dismembered, and disfigured bodies of their brothers we leave behind us. And the German won't not be able to help themselves but to imagine the cruelty their brothers endured at our hands, and our boot heels, and the edge of our knives. And the German will be sickened by us, and the German will talk about us, and the German will fear us. And when the German closes their eyes at night and they're tortured by their subconscious for the evil they have done, it will be with thoughts of us they are tortured with. Sound good?

That's what I like to hear. But I got a word of warning for all you would-be warriors. When you join my command, you take on debit. A debit you owe me personally. Each and every man under my command owes me one hundred Nazi scalps. And I want my scalps. And all y'all will git me one hundred Nazi scalps, taken from the heads of one hundred dead Nazis. Or you will die tryin'.

Up the road apiece, there's an orchard. Now, besides you, we know there's another kraut patrol fuckin' around there somewhere. Now if that patrol were to have any crackshots, that orchard would be a goddamn sniper's delight. Now, if you ever want to eat a sauerkraut sandwich again, you gotta show me on this here map where they are, you gotta tell me how many there are, and you gotta tell me what kinda artillery they're carrying with 'em.

Well, now Werner, that's where you're wrong, because that's exactly what I expect. I need to know about Germans hiding in them trees, and you need to tell me, and you need to tell me right now. Now, just take that finger of yours and point out on this here map where this party's being held, how many's coming, and what they brought to play with.

Man, I've been doing this for... listen, man. I've been in this game a long time. I'm not in it for a record, I'll tell you that. I'm not in it for a ring. That's when people get hurt. If we don't win the last game of the Series, they'll dismiss us.

I know these guys. I know the way they think, and they will erase us. And everything we've done here, none of it'll matter. Any other team wins the World Series, good for them. They're drinking champagne, they get a ring. But if we win, on our budget, with this team... we'll have changed the game. And that's what I want. I want it to mean something.

The problem we're trying to solve is that there are rich teams and there are poor teams. Then there's fifty feet of crap, and then there's us. It's an unfair game. And now we've been gutted. We're like organ donors for the rich. Boston's taken our kidneys, Yankees have taken our heart. And you guys just sit around talking the same old "good body" nonsense like we're selling jeans. Like we're looking for Fabio. We've got to think differently. We are the last dog at the bowl. You see what happens to the runt of the litter? He dies.

If you and I were married, I would want to give you what you need, that's all. I'm talking about taking care of each other as best you can. What's wrong with taking care of a woman? She takes care of you

Should you choose to test my resolve in this matter, you will be facing a finality beyond your comprehension, and you will not be counting days, or months, or years, but milleniums in a place with no doors.

You're the poison, Drew. You've operated behind the scenes to suborn the trust of a man who has stamped you with his imprimatur of class, elegance and stature. I've had the opportunity to be a witness to every kind and degree of deception but Bill Parish has been on the receiving end of machinations so Machiavellian that it has rarely been my experience to encounter and yet he has combated them himself stoically and selflessly without revealing my identity. Had he violated the vow of secrecy he took, his task would have been far easier, he could have turned defeat into victory. But he is too honorable a man to have done that. Because of me, he has lost his work, his company, his reputation, so now, given these losses, I'm compelled to end the need for secrecy.

There's the television. It's all right there - all right there. Look, listen, kneel, pray. Commercials! We're not productive anymore. We don't make things anymore. It's all automated. What are we for then? We're consumers, Jim. Yeah. Okay, okay. Buy a lot of stuff, you're a good citizen. But if you don't buy a lot of stuff, if you don't, what are you then, I ask you? What? Mentally ill. Fact, Jim, fact - if you don't buy things - toilet paper, new cars, computerized yo-yos, electrically-operated sexual devices, stereo systems with brain-implanted headphones, screwdrivers with miniature built-in radar devices, voice-activated computers…

All the doors are locked too. They're protecting the people on the outside from us from the people on the outside who are as crazy as us.

Uh-huh. In the eighteenth century, no such thing, nada, nothing. No one ever imagined such a thing. No sane person, anyway. Ah! Ah! Along comes this doctor, uh, uh, uh, Semmelweis, Semmelweis. Semmelweis comes along. He's trying to convince people, well, other doctors mainly, that's there's these teeny tiny invisible bad things called germs that get into your body and make you sick. Ah? He's trying to get doctors to wash their hands. What is this guy? Crazy? Teeny, tiny, invisible? What do you call it? Uh-uh, germs? Huh? What? Now, cut to the 20th century. Last week, as a matter of fact, before I got dragged into this hellhole. I go in to order a burger in this fast food joint, and the guy drops it on the floor. Jim, he picks it up, he wipes it off, he hands it to me like it's all OK. "What about the germs?" I say. He says, "I don't believe in germs. Germs is just a plot they made up so they can sell you disinfectants and soaps." Now he's crazy, right? See?

Ah! Ah! There's no right, there's no wrong, there's only popular opinion. You… you… you believe in germs, right?

Sorry. Uh, sorry. I, I, I got a little agitated. The thought of, uh, escape had crossed my mind, and then suddenly - suddenly - suddenly I felt like bending the fucking bars back, and ripping out the goddamn window frames and eating them - yes, *eating* them! Leaping, leaping, leaping! Colonics for everyone! All right! You dumbasses. I'm a mental patient. I'm *supposed* to act out! Wait'll you morons find out who I am! My father's gonna be really upset, and when my father gets upset, the ground SHAKES! My father is God! I worship my father!

Then, they took everything about me and put it into a computer where they created this model of my mind. Yes! Using that model they managed to generate every thought I could possibly have in the next, say, 10 years. Which they then filtered through a probability matrix of some kind to - to determine everything I was gonna do in that period. So you see, she knew I was gonna lead the Army of the Twelve Monkeys into the pages of history before it ever even occurred to me. She knows everything I'm ever gonna do before I know it myself. How's that?

There was this guy, and he was always requesting shows that had already played. Yes. No. You have to tell her before. He couldn't quite grasp the idea that the charge nurse couldn't make it be yesterday. She couldn't turn back time, thank you, Einstein! Now, he was nuts! He was a fruitcake, Jim!

Telephone call? Telephone call? That's communication with the outside world. Doctor's discretion. Nuh-uh. Look, hey - all of these nuts could just make phone calls, they could spread insanity, oozing through telephone cables, oozing into the ears of all these poor sane people, infecting them. Wackos everywhere, plague of madness.

I've been trying to figure something in my head, and maybe you can help me out, yeah? When a person is insane, as you clearly are, do you know that you're insane? Maybe you're just sitting around, reading "Guns and Ammo", masturbating in your own feces, do you just stop and go, "Wow! It is amazing how fucking crazy I really am!"? Yeah. Do you guys do that?

You're no messiah. You're a movie of the week. You're a fucking t-shirt, at best.

I don't think you're quitting because you believe these things you say. I don't. I think you want to believe them, because you're quitting. And you want me to agree with you, and you want me to say, "Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're right. It's all fucked up. It's a fucking mess. We should all go live in a fucking log cabin." But I won't. I won't say that. I don't agree with you. I do not. I can't.

Who knows. So many freaks out there doin' their little evil deeds they don't wanna do… "The voices made me do it. My dog made me do it. Jodie Foster told me to do it."

Fuckin' Dante... poetry-writing faggot! Piece of shit, motherfucker!

You can be as mad as a mad dog at the way things went. You could swear, curse the fates, but when it comes to the end, you have to let go.

For what it's worth: it's never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There's no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you're proud of. If you find that you're not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again.

Some people, were born to sit by a river. Some get struck by lightning. Some have an ear for music. Some are artists. Some swim. Some know buttons. Some know Shakespeare. Some are mothers. And some people, dance.

Sometimes we're on a collision course, and we just don't know it. Whether it's by accident or by design, there's not a thing we can do about it. A woman in Paris was on her way to go shopping, but she had forgotten her coat - went back to get it. When she had gotten her coat, the phone had rung, so she'd stopped to answer it; talked for a couple of minutes. While the woman was on the phone, Daisy was rehearsing for a performance at the Paris Opera House. And while she was rehearsing, the woman, off the phone now, had gone outside to get a taxi. Now a taxi driver had dropped off a fare earlier and had stopped to get a cup of coffee. And all the while, Daisy was rehearsing. And this cab driver, who dropped off the earlier fare; who'd stopped to get the cup of coffee, had picked up the lady who was going to shopping, and had missed getting an earlier cab. The taxi had to stop for a man crossing the street, who had left for work five minutes later than he normally did, because he forgot to set off his alarm. While that man, late for work, was crossing the street, Daisy had finished rehearsing, and was taking a shower. And while Daisy was showering, the taxi was waiting outside a boutique for the woman to pick up a package, which hadn't been wrapped yet, because the girl who was supposed to wrap it had broken up with her boyfriend the night before, and forgot.

When the package was wrapped, the woman, who was back in the cab, was blocked by a delivery truck, all the while Daisy was getting dressed. The delivery truck pulled away and the taxi was able to move, while Daisy, the last to be dressed, waited for one of her friends, who had broken a shoelace. While the taxi was stopped, waiting for a traffic light, Daisy and her friend came out the back of the theater. And if only one thing had happened differently: if that shoelace hadn't broken; or that delivery truck had moved moments earlier; or that package had been wrapped and ready, because the girl hadn't broken up with her boyfriend; or that man had set his alarm and got up five minutes earlier; or that taxi driver hadn't stopped for a cup of coffee; or that woman had remembered her coat, and got into an earlier cab, Daisy and her friend would've crossed the street, and the taxi would've driven by. But life being what it is - a series of intersecting lives and incidents, out of anyone's control - that taxi did not go by, and that driver was momentarily distracted, and that taxi hit Daisy, and her leg was crushed.

Man, I see in fight club the strongest and smartest men who've ever lived. I see all this potential, and I see squandering. God damn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war… our Great Depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed off.

Gentlemen, welcome to Fight Club. The first rule of Fight Club is: you do not talk about Fight Club. The second rule of Fight Club is: you DO NOT talk about Fight Club! Third rule of Fight Club: someone yells "stop!", goes limp, taps out, the fight is over. Fourth rule: only two guys to a fight. Fifth rule: one fight at a time, fellas. Sixth rule: No shirts, no shoes. Seventh rule: fights will go on as long as they have to. And the eighth and final rule: if this is your first time at Fight Club, you have to fight.

Warning: If you are reading this then this warning is for you. Every word you read of this useless fine print is another second off your life. Don't you have other things to do? Is your life so empty that you honestly can't think of a better way to spend these moments? Or are you so impressed with authority that you give respect and credence to all that claim it? Do you read everything you're supposed to read? Do you think every thing you're supposed to think? Buy what you're told to want? Get out of your apartment. Meet a member of the opposite sex. Stop the excessive shopping and masturbation. Quit your job. Start a fight. Prove you're alive. If you don't claim your humanity you will become a statistic. You have been warned- Tyler.

You're not your job. You're not how much money you have in the bank. You're not the car you drive. You're not the contents of your wallet. You're not your fucking khakis. You're the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.

Oxygen gets you high. In a catastrophic emergency, you're taking giant panicked breaths. Suddenly you become euphoric, docile. You accept your fate. It's all right here. Emergency water landing - 600 miles an hour. Blank faces, calm as Hindu cows.

It's a blanket. Just a blanket. Now why do guys like you and me know what a duvet is? Is this essential to our survival, in the hunter-gatherer sense of the word? No. What are we then?

Hi. You're going to call off your rigorous investigation. You're going to publicly state that there is no underground group. Or… these guys are going to take your balls. They're going to send one to the New York Times, one to the LA Times press-release style. Look, the people you are after are the people you depend on. We cook your meals, we haul your trash, we connect your calls, we drive your ambulances. We guard you while you sleep. Do not… fuck with us.

Fuck what you know. You need to forget about what you know, that's your problem. Forget about what you think you know about life, about friendship, and especially about you and me.

In the world I see - you are stalking elk through the damp canyon forests around the ruins of Rockefeller Center. You'll wear leather clothes that will last you the rest of your life. You'll climb the wrist-thick kudzu vines that wrap the Sears Tower. And when you look down, you'll see tiny figures pounding corn, laying strips of venison on the empty car pool lane of some abandoned superhighway.

All right, if the applicant is young, tell him he's too young. Old, too old. Fat, too fat. If the applicant then waits for three days without food, shelter, or encouragement he may then enter and begin his training.

We're consumers. We are by-products of a lifestyle obsession. Murder, crime, poverty, these things don't concern me. What concerns me are celebrity magazines, television with 500 channels, some guy's name on my underwear. Rogaine, Viagra, Olestra.