Kristin Scott Thomas Monologues

I've never been on a cow farm before. It seems to me that the bulls have the best time. Just laying around the fields waiting for someone to come along and ask them to do their work.

A million years before man they grazed the vast empty plains, living by voices only they could hear. They first came to know man as the hunted knows the hunter. Before he used horses for his labors, he killed them for meat. The alliance with man would forever be fragile. For the fear he struck deep into their hearts was too deep to be dislodged. Since that neolithic moment when a horse was first haltered, there were those among men who understood this. They could see into the creature's soul and sooth the wounds they found there. The secrets uttered softly into troubled ears. These men were known as the Whisperers.

My darling. I'm waiting for you. How long is the day in the dark? Or a week? The fire is gone, and I'm horribly cold. I really should drag myself outside but then there'd be the sun. I'm afraid I waste the light on the paintings, not writing these words. We die. We die rich with lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we've entered and swum up like rivers. Fears we've hidden in - like this wretched cave. I want all this marked on my body. We are the real countries. Not boundaries drawn on maps with the names of powerful men. I know you'll come carry me out to the Palace of Winds. That's what I've wanted: to walk in such a place with you. With friends, on an earth without maps. The lamp has gone out and I'm writing in the darkness.

You speak so many bloody languages, and you never want to talk.

Of course, you idiot. I always wear it; I've always worn it; I've always loved you.

I wanted to meet the man who could write such a long paper with so few adjectives.

Do you think you are the only one who feels anything?

A woman should never learn to sew, and if she can she shouldn't admit to it.