Diane Lane Monologues

When Jack left me, it wasn't just our marriage ending. It was the loss of all the hopes that I'd had for the future. I tried to move on, but the world didn't seem that interested in me anymore. Then you came along, and helped me believe in myself again.

I know you've only ever known your father and me. And I love Jack, because he is your father. But there's another kind of love, Amanda. One that gives you the courage to be better than you are, not less than you are. One that makes you feel that anything is possible. I want you to know that you could have that. I want you to hold out for it.

Well, you fall in love with someone, you know... and you make a family... and you become what you think you're supposed to be. And you change and you give up certain things. Then they look at what you've got left and you wish you... I don't know, you just think maybe you shouldn't have.

Do you know the most surprising thing about divorce? It doesn't actually kill you. Like a bullet to the heart or a head-on car wreck. It should. When someone you've promised to cherish till death do you part says "I never loved you," it should kill you instantly. You shouldn't have to wake up day after day after that, trying to understand how in the world you didn't know. The light just never went on, you know. I must have known, of course, but I was too scared to see the truth. Then fear just makes you so stupid.

Oh, love is blind. Yeah, we have that saying too.

Unthinkably good things can happen even late in the game. It's such a surprise.

What are four walls, anyway? They are what they contain. The house protects the dreamer. Unthinkably good things can happen, even late in the game. It's such a surprise

What is it about love that makes us so stupid?

But, please tell the contessa that this is what I got for my house recently, in dollars, minus the work on the place, um... hammers, buckets, men,

chocolate, and a rental car to drive off a cliff when this all turns out to have been a terrible mistake. That's what I can pay.

Every day I watch for the old man with the flowers, and I wonder, was he born here? Did he love someone here? Did he lose someone here? He doesn't seem as curious about me, but that's all right. These days I'm something of a loner myself.

So I was now the owner of a villa whose lands it would take two oxen two days to plow. Owning neither an ox nor a plow, I'd have to take their word for that.

Any arbitrary turning along the way and I would be elsewhere; I would be different.

Inner voice... "What the fuck am I doing on a gay tour of Tuscany?"