Nicole Kidman Monologues

You know Mr. Gorbachev, the guy that ran Russia for so long? I am a firm believer that he would still be in power today if he had had that ugly purple thing taken off his head.

You're not anybody in America unless you're on TV. On TV is where we learn about who we really are. Because what's the point of doing anything worthwhile if nobody's watching? And if people are watching, it makes you a better person.

You aren't really anybody in America if you're not on TV.

It's their word against mine. Who are they? Bunch of 16-year-old losers who grew up in trailers whose parents sit around drinking and screwing their cousins!

I'm a professional person, for Christ's sake. I come from a good home. Who do you think a jury would believe?

I think if you wanted a babysitter, you should marry Mary Poppins.

Well, you grow up, you know? You think it's all gonna be like a fairytale. Like you're Sleeping Beauty, and along comes this Prince Charming, and he looks at you, and it's night time, and he smiles at you and kisses you.

And then… then you wake up… and it's daylight… and you look at him. It's just when you work all day, trying to perfect yourself and create something meaningful, you expect some support. Does anyone ever say "Did you have a good shoot today?" or "How's the editing going?" or anything of that nature?

No. I mean, the point is... Larry is a nice guy, you know? But he just doesn't know a thing about television.

It's nice to live in a country where life, liberty... and all the rest of it still stand for something.

Hi. My name is Suzanne Maretto. No, wait. I'm sorry. Suzanne Maretto is my married name. My own name… is Suzanne Stone. That's my professional name. Suzanne Stone. It's not like I have any negative feelings about the name Maretto. Maretto is the name, after all… of my husband… who I loved… very, very much.

Sorry. It's also the name of his parents, Joe and Angela Maretto... and of his lovely and talented sister, Janice Maretto... who have been like a second family to me... and who I regard as I do my own family... particularly since my recent tragedy. I knew just through knowing and being related to them. They have given me what I think is a very precious and valuable insight... into the different kinds of ethnic relationships... that are part of the very things that I've been trying to explore... as a member of the professional media.

Dearest, I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel I can't go through another one of these terrible times and I shant recover this time. I begin to hear voices and can't concentrate. So, I am doing what seems to be the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I know that I am spoiling your life and without me you could work and you will, I know. You see I can't even write this properly. What I want to say is that I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. Everything is gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can't go on spoiling your life any longer. I don't think two people could have been happier than we have been. Virginia

Someone has to die in order that the rest of us should value life more. It's contrast.

A woman's whole life in a single day. Just one day. And in that day her whole life.

Did it matter, then, she asked herself, walking toward Bond Street. Did it matter that she must inevitably cease, completely. All this must go on without her. Did she resent it? Or did it not become consoling to believe that death ended absolutely? It is possible to die. It is possible to die.

This is my right; it is the right of every human being. I choose not the suffocating anesthetic of the suburbs, but the violent jolt of the Capital, that is my choice. The meanest patient, yes, even the very lowest is allowed some say in the matter of her own prescription. Thereby she defines her humanity. I wish, for your sake, Leonard, I could be happy in this quietness.

But if it is a choice between Richmond and death, I choose death.

I was going to kill my heroine. But I've changed my mind. I fear I may have to kill someone else, instead.

Dear Leonard. To look life in the face, always, to look life in the face and to know it for what it is. At last to know it, to love it for what it is, and then, to put it away. Leonard, always the years between us, always the years. Always, the love. Always, the hours.

Dear Mr. Inman, I began by counting the days, then the months. I don't count on anything anymore except the hope that you will return, and the silent fear that in the years since we saw each other, this war, this awful war, will have changed us both beyond all reckoning.

I can talk about farming in Latin. I can read French. I can lace up a corset, God knows. I can name the principal rivers in Europe, just don't ask me to name one stream in this county! I can embroider but I can't darn! I can arrange cut flowers but I can't grow them! If a thing has a function, if I might do something with it, then it wasn't considered suitable!

What we have lost will never be returned to us. The land will not heal - too much blood. All we can do is learn from the past and make peace with it.

What if you are killed and I'll never see you again? You said after a few years I would barely remember your name. Oh, Inman, it is more than three years, and I remember your name.

When I came with my father to the town of Cold Mountain, I was so shy of how I looked, so out of place. But did you know how happy I was to escape from Charleston, from a world of slaves and corsets and cotton?

I'm still waiting, as I promised I would. But I find myself alone and at the end of my wits - too embarrassed to keep taking from those who can least afford to give.

Since you've left, time has been measured out in bitter chapters. Last fall, my poor father died. Our farm at Black Cove is abandoned. Every house in these mountains touched by tragedy. Each day the dread of - learning who has fallen - who will not return from this terrible war. And no word from you. Are you alive?

After so long, I know I must learn to survive on my own and accept you will not return. And yet I cannot. I cannot.

Yesterday, I saw you walkin' back to me - or thought I did. I found myself crouching over Sally Swanger's well, like a madwoman staring into its secrets. Was it you I saw walking home to me or was it your ghost?

I looked once more down Sally's well, and this time there was nothin' there to haunt me. Just clouds. Clouds, and then... sun.