Gwyneth Paltrow Monologues

We're not even two people. Even before we met, we were just these two halves, walking around with big gaping holes in the shape like the other person. And when we found each other we were finally whole. And then it was as if we couldn't stand being happy so we ripped ourselves in half again.

Sometimes I dream the tree, and the tree is my life. One branch is the man I shall marry, and the leaves my children. Another branch is my future as a writer, and each leaf is a poem. Another branch is a good academic career. But as I sit there trying to choose, the leaves bring to turn brown and blow away, until the tree is absolutely bare.

Sometimes I feel like I'm not - solid. I'm hollow. There's - nothing behind my eyes. I'm a negative of a person. Its as if I never - I never thought anything. I never wrote - anything. I never felt anything. All I want is blackness. Blackness and silence.

That's why they make children learn them in school. They don't want them messing about with them on their own. I mean, just imagine if a sonnet went off accidentally. Boom.

No. I've never been happier and I've never written more. Its as if, now he's gone, I'm free. I can finally write. I wake up between three and four, cause that's the worst time, and I write till dawn. I really feel like God is speaking through me.

Dying is an art. Like everything else. I do it exceptionally well. I do it so it feels like Hell. I do it so it feels real. I guess you could say I've a call.

I was dead. Only, I rose up again. Like Lazarus. Lady Lazarus. That's me.

I know there is no better creature in all the world, but you must allow that blended alongside the good, there is an equal amount of the ridiculous in her.

Vulgar? Base? Conceited? Crass? She actually seemed pleased to discover that Mr. Knightley was a gentleman. I doubt he'll return the compliment and find *her* a lady. She proposed that we form a *musical club*. Is it possible that Mr. Elton met her while doing charitable work in a mental infirmary?

There is only one thing to do with a person as impossible as she.

I must throw a party for her. Otherwise everyone will feel at once how much I dislike her.

Mr. Knightley, if I have not spoken, it is because I am afraid I will awaken myself from this dream.

Now I need not call you Mr. Knightley. I may call you my Mr. Knightley.

I will not know how to behave when I see him.

Oh, but if he seems happy, I will know that he's decided to marry Harriet, and I will not, I know I will not be able to let him tell me. But if he seems sad, I'll know that John has advised him against it. I love John! Or he may seem sad because he fears telling me he will marry my friend. How can John let him do that? I hate John!

I may have lost my heart, but not my self-control.

Indeed! One matter of joy in this is that I made the match myself. People said Mr. Weston would never marry again, and what a triumph!

Have you never known the triumph of a lucky guess? Had I not promoted Mr. Weston's visits and given encouragement where encouragement was needed, we might not have had a wedding today.

Not one in a hundred men have "gentleman" so plainly written across them as Mr. Knightley!

Dear Diary, Today I tried not to think about Mr. Knightley. I tried not to think about him when I discussed the menu with Cook... I tried not to think about him in the garden where I thrice plucked the petals off a daisy to acertain his feelings for Harriet. I don't think we should keep daisies in the garden, they really are a drab little flower. And I tried not to think about him when I went to bed, but something had to be done.

I hope John advises him against it. After all we know nothing about her parents. They could be pirates!

One does not like to generalize about so many people all at once, Mr. Knightley, but you may be sure that men know nothing about their hearts, whether they be six-and-twenty, or six-and-eighty.

Hmm, you dismiss her beauty and good nature, yet I would be very much mistaken, if your sex in general, does not think those claims the highest a woman could possess!