Robin Williams Monologues

I'm sorry, if you were right, I would agree with you.

What we do know is that, as the chemical window closed, another awakening took place; that the human spirit is more powerful than any drug - and THAT is what needs to be nourished: with work, play, friendship, family. THESE are the things that matter. This is what we'd forgotten - the simplest things.

His gaze is from the passing of bars so exhausted, that it doesn't hold a thing anymore. For him, it's as if there were thousands of bars and behind the thousands of bars no world. The sure stride of lithe, powerful steps, that around the smallest of circles turns, is like a dance of pure energy about a center, in which a great will stands numbed. Only occasionally, without a sound, do the covers of the eyes slide open-. An image rushes in, goes through the tensed silence of the frame- only to vanish, forever, in the heart.

You'd think at a certain point all these atypical somethings would amount to a typical something.

I'm not very good with people. I like them. I wish I could say I had more than a rudimentary understanding of them. Maybe if they were less unpredictable...

His vision, from the constantly passing bars, has grown so weary that it cannot hold anything else. It seems to him there are a thousand bars; and behind the bars, no world. As he paces in cramped circles, over and over, the movement of his powerful soft strides is like a ritual dance around a center in which a mighty will stands paralyzed. Only at times, the curtain of the pupils lifts, quietly - . An image enters in, rushes down through the tensed, arrested muscles, plunges into the heart and is gone.

Do you think a Parkinsonian tremor taken to its extreme, would appear as no tremor at aIl?

Oh, yes. Imagine you accelerated a Parkinsonian hand tremor to the point of immobiIity in the - Suppose there's a patient with Parkinsonian compulsions accelerated: the hand tremor, the head bobbing, ticking, quickening of speech. Might they not aII cave in on themseIves and, in effect, turn a person into stone?

Some things couId reach him, though. The mention of his name, notes of a particuIar piece of music. Or the touch of another human being. But awakenings were rare and transient, Iasting onIy a moment or two. The rest of the time, he remained, as you see him here, in a metaphoricaI, if not physioIogicaI, equivaIent of sIeep, or even death.

The reaIity is we don't know what went wrong any more than we know what went right.

You do an eclectic celebration of the dance! You do Fosse, Fosse, Fosse! You do Martha Graham, Martha Graham, Martha Graham! Or Twyla, Twyla, Twyla! Or Michael Kidd, Michael Kidd, Michael Kidd, Michael Kidd! Or Madonna, Madonna, Madonna!… but you keep it all inside.

My cemetery's in Key Biscayne. It's one of the prettiest in the world. The sky is blue, palm trees, rolling hills. The one is Los Copa's really shit.

What a pain in the ass you are. And it's true: you're not young, you're not new, and you do make people laugh. And me? I'm still with you because you make me laugh. So you know what I got to do? I got to sell my plot in Key Biscayne so I can get one next to you in that shithole Los Copa, so I never miss a laugh.

Yes, I wear foundation. Yes, I live with a man. Yes, I'm a middle- aged fag. But I know who I am, Val. It took me twenty years to get here, and I'm not gonna let some idiot senator destroy that. Fuck the senator, I don't give a damn what he thinks.

Al, you old son of a bitch! How ya doin'? How do you feel about that call today? I mean the Dolphins! Fourth-and-three play on their 30 yard line with only 34 seconds to go!

A woman is said to be worth her weight in hens. And a man's wealth is measured by the size of his cock.

So what? The important thing to remember is not to go to pieces when that happens. You have to react like a man, calmly. You have to say to yourself, "Albert, you pierced the toast, so what? It's not the end of your life."

Don't worry about that. I'm very maternal. And Albert's practically a breast.

So this is Hell. And there's a crucifix in it.

Oh please, look at you! Look at the way you're holding your glass! Look at your pinky! Look at your posture!

Albert, these people are right-wing conservatists. They don't care if you're a pig, they just care if you're a fag!... Ah, fuck 'em! Of course you can pass as an uncle!

What we really need is a woman. We can get away with Albert as an uncle if we had a woman as a mother. Ironic, isn't it? When you need a woman...

I can't. And I won't. This is too crazy. You do this, you're on your own. You got that, sport? You don't come back here, you don't ask me for anything, I want nothing to do with it.

Take it! Take it all! What difference does it make if I say you can stay or if you say I can stay?

You have no evidence I killed Kay. You only know because I told you what I saw.

Kay called and said she and Randy had had a fight. She wanted to come over and talk, meet me at her place. She comes over, she's distraught, a little drunk. She starts telling me how Randy and Tanya were carrying on. I only wanted to comfort her, hold her... I kissed her and... got a little exited... and then... she started laughing at me. She didn't stop laughing. Did you ever have someone laugh at you, Will? You know, when you're really vulnerable, laughing their ass off at you? Someone you thought respected you? Ever have that happen, Will? I just wanted to stop her laughing that's all. And then you know, I hit her. A couple of times, just to stop her. Let her know, a little respect. Randy did it all the time, I think she even liked it when he did it. I mean she never blamed him, she never wanted to leave him. But now I do it, she starts screaming... she wouldn't stop. She's terrified, she's screaming her head off, I put my hand over her mouth. And then I get really scared, I mean, I'm scared shitless, more scared than I've ever been. And I'm more scared than her, and then... everything's clear. There's no turning back. After that, I was calm. Real calm. You and I share a secret. We know how easy it is to kill someone. That ultimate taboo, it doesn't exist outside our minds. I didn't murder her. I killed her. But it just ended up that way.

You forgot the wild card, Will.

You're a good man. I know that. Even if you've forgotten it.

You and I share a secret. We know how easy it is to kill someone. That ultimate taboo. It doesn't exist outside our own minds.

I didn't murder her. I killed her, but it just ended up that way.

Must be hard to concentrate on this case after 3 days without sleep.

And if these pictures have anything important to say to future generations, it's this: I was here. I existed. I was young, I was happy, and someone cared enough about me in this world to take my picture.

Family photos depict smiling faces… births, weddings, holidays, children's birthday parties. People take pictures of the happy moments in their lives. Someone looking through our photo album would conclude that we had led a joyous, leisurely existence free of tragedy. No one ever takes a photograph of something they want to forget.

The things you're most afraid of have already happened.

The shutter is clicked. The flash goes off and they've stopped time, as if just for the blink of an eye.

Most people don't take snapshots of the little things. The used Band-Aid, the guy at the gas station, the wasp on the Jell-O. But these are the things that make up the true picture of our lives. People don't take pictures of these things.

I've been doing P.O.S. mini-lab work for more than 20 years now. I consider it an important job. When people's houses are on fire, what's the first thing they save after their pets and loved ones are safe? The family photos. Some people think that this is a job for a clerk. They actually believe that any idiot that attends a two-day seminar can master the art of making beautiful prints in less than an hour. But of course, like most things, there's far more to it than meets the eye. I've seen prints they fob off on people at the Rexall or Fotek... milky, washed-out prints... too dark prints. There's no sense of reverence for the service they're providing for people. I process these photos as if they were my own.

There's a very good reason. I calibrated that machine personally. It's the best mini-lab in the state.

Are you a family man, Detective?

You're right, it's not. But I can see by your response and the ring on your finger that you are. That makes you a fortunate man. I can also tell be the way you've treated me so far that you're a good man, and that you appreciate your good fortune. You're not the kind of man who would cheat on his wife, hurt his family, abuse their trust.

You would never neglect or abuse your children.

Make horrible demands of them. You would never ask... You would never ask your children to do things... things that children shouldn't do.

You would never take disgusting, sick, degrading pictures of your children doing these things!

You would never treat your children like animals.

Will Yorkin had it all and he threw it away. He is not a good father.

Could I have my pictures now?

Am I talking to a brick wall? Did I tell you to touch her? If you touch her again; I stab you in the heart!

According to The Oxford English Dictionary, the word "snapshot" was originally a hunting term.

Did you ever hear the story of the Fisher King?

It begins with the King as a boy, having to spend the night alone in the forest to prove his courage so he can become King. Now while he's spending the night alone he's visited by a sacred vision. Out of the fire appears the Holy Grail, symbol of God's divine grace. And a voice said to the boy, "You shall be keeper of the Grail so that it may heal the hearts of men." But the boy was blinded by greater visions of a life filled with power and glory and beauty. And in this state of radical amazement he felt for a brief moment not like a boy, but invincible, like God, so he reached into the fire to take the Grail, and the Grail vanished, leaving him with his hand in the fire to be terribly wounded. Now as this boy grew older, his wound grew deeper. Until one day, life for him lost its reason. He had no faith in any man, not even himself. He couldn't love or feel loved. He was sick with experience. He began to die. One day a fool wandered into the castle and found the King alone. And being a fool, he was simple minded, he didn't see a King. He only saw a man alone and in pain. And he asked the King, "What ails you friend?" The King replied, "I'm thirsty. I need some water to cool my throat". So the fool took a cup from beside his bed, filled it with water and handed it to the King. As the King began to drink, he realized his wound was healed. He looked in his hands and there was the Holy Grail, that which he sought all of his life. And he turned to the fool and said with amazement, "How can you find that which my brightest and bravest could not?" And the fool replied, "I don't know. I only knew that you were thirsty."

No, please stop. I'm in love with you. And not just from tonight. I've known you for a long time. I know that when you come out from work and fight your way out that door. You get pushed back in, and then you come back out. I walk with you to lunch. It's a good day, if you stop and get that romance novel at that store. I know on Wednesdays, you go to that dim sum parlor. And I know that you get a jawbreaker before you go back into work. And I know you hate your job and you don't have many friends. Sometimes you feel uncoordinated and you don't feel as wonderful as everybody else. Feeling as alone and separate as you feel you are… I love you. I love you! I think you're the greatest thing since spice racks. I'd be knocked out if I could just have that first kiss. And I won't be distant. I'll come back in the morning. I'll call you, if you let me. But I still don't drink coffee.

I am your man, then! Let's do it - right here! Let's go to that place of "splendor in the grass"! Behold my magic wand and free your golden orbs right now!

Oh Lydia, oh Lydia, Say, have you met Lydia? Lydia The Tattooed Lady, When her muscles start relaxin', up the hill comes Michael Jackson…

You treat a disease, you win, you lose. You treat a person, I guarantee you, you'll win, no matter what the outcome.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly without complexities or pride. I love you because I know no other way then this. So close that your hand, on my chest, is my hand. So close, that when you close your eyes, I fall asleep.

Our job is improving the quality of life, not just delaying death.

What's wrong with death sir? What are we so mortally afraid of? Why can't we treat death with a certain amount of humanity and dignity, and decency, and God forbid, maybe even humor. Death is not the enemy gentlemen. If we're going to fight a disease, let's fight one of the most terrible diseases of all, indifference.

Yeah, I could do it. We both know you wouldn't stop me. So answer me please. Tell me what you're doing. Okay, let's look at the logic. You create man. Man suffers enormous amounts of pain. Man dies. Maybe you should have had just a few more brainstorming sessions prior to creation. You rested on the seventh day. Maybe you should've spent that day on compassion.

Now you have the ability to keep me from graduating. You can keep me from getting the title and the white coat. But you can't control my spirit, gentlemen. You can't keep me from learning, you can't keep me from studying. So you have a choice: you can have me as a professional colleague, passionate, or you can have me as an outspoken outsider, still adament. Either way I'll probably still be viewed as a thorn. But I promise you one thing: I am a thorn that will not go away

All of life is a coming home. Salesmen, secretaries, coal miners, beekeepers, sword swallowers, all of us. All the restless hearts of the world, all trying to find a way home. It's hard to describe what I felt like then. Picture yourself walking for days in the driving snow; you don't even know you're walking in circles. The heaviness of your legs in the drifts, your shouts disappearing into the wind. How small you can feel, and how far away home can be. Home. The dictionary defines it as both a place of origin and a goal or destination. And the storm? The storm was all in my mind. Or as the poet Dante put it: In the middle of the journey of my life, I found myself in a dark wood, for I had lost the right path. Eventually I would find the right path, but in the most unlikely place.

Good morning, Vietnam! Hey, this is not a test. This is rock and roll. Time to rock it from the delta to the DMZ! Is that me, or does that sound like an Elvis Presley movie? Viva Da Nang. Oh, viva, Da Nang. Da Nang me, Da Nang me. Why don't they get a rope and hang me? Hey, is it a little too early for being that loud? Hey, too late. It's 0600 What's the "0" stand for? Oh, my God, it's early. Speaking of early, how about that Cro-Magnon, Marty Dreiwitz? Thank you, Marty, for "silky-smooth sound." Make me sound like Peggy Lee. Freddy and the Dreamers! Wrong speed. We've got it on the wrong speed. For those of you recovering from a hangover, that's gonna sound just right. Let's put her right back down. Let's try it a little faster, see if that picks it up a little bit. Those pilots are going, "I really like the music. I really like the music. I really like the music." Oh, it's still a bad song. Hey, wait a minute. Let's try something. Let's play this backwards and see if it gets any better. Freddy is a devil. Freddy is a devil. Picture a man going on a journey beyond sight and sound. He's left Crete. He's entered the demilitarized zone. All right. Hey, what is this "demilitarized zone"? What do they mean, "police action"? Sounds like a couple of cops in Brooklyn going, "You know, she looks pretty to me." Hey, whatever it is, I like it because it gets you on your toes better than a strong cup of cappuccino. What is a demilitarized zone? Sounds like something out of The Wizard of Oz, Oh, no, don't go in there. Oh-we-oh Ho Chi'Minh Oh, look, you've landed in Saigon. You're among the little people now. We represent the ARVN Army The ARVN Army Oh, no! Follow the Ho Chi Minh Trail. Follow the Ho Chi Minh Trail. "Oh, I'll get you, my pretty!" Oh, my God. It's the wicked witch of the north. It's Hanoi Hanna! "Now, little GI, you and your little 'tune-ooh' too!" "Oh, Adrian. Adrian. What are you doing, Adrian?" Oh, Hanna, you slut. You've been down on everything but the Titanic. Stop it right now. Hey, uh, hi. Can you help me? What's your name? "My name's Roosevelt E. Roosevelt." Roosevelt, what town are you stationed in?. "I'm stationed in Poontang." Well, thank you, Roosevelt. What's the weather like out there? "It's hot. Damn hot! Real hot! Hottest things is my shorts. I could cook things in it. A little crotch pot cooking." Well, can you tell me what it feels like. "Fool, it's hot! I told you again! Were you born on the sun? It's damn hot! I saw - It's so damn hot, I saw little guys, their orange robes burst into flames. It's that hot! Do you know what I'm talking about." What do you think it's going to be like tonight? "It's gonna be hot and wet! That's nice if you're with a lady, but it ain't no good if you're in the jungle." Thank you, Roosevelt. Here's a song coming your way right now. "Nowhere To Run To" by Martha and the Vandellas. Yes! Hey, you know what I mean! Too much?

Goooooooood morning Vietnam! It's 0600 hours. What does the "O" stand for? O my God, it's early! Speaking of early, let's hear it for that Marty Lee Drywitz. Silky smooth sounds, making me sound like Peggy Lee…

Excuse me, sir. Seeing as how the V.P. is such a V.I.P., shouldn't we keep the P.C. on the Q.T.? 'Cause if it leaks to the V.C. he could end up M.I.A., and then we'd all be put on K.P.

The Mississippi River broke through a protective dike today. What is a protective dike? Is it a large woman that says "Don't go near there! But Betty- Don't go near there! Don't go down by the river!"... No, we can't say "dyke" on the air, we can't even say "lesbian" anymore, it's "women in comfortable shoes. Thank You."

I just want to begin by saying to Roosevelt E. Roosevelt, what it is, what it shall be, what it was. The weather out there today is hot and shitty with continued hot and shitty in the afternoon. Tomorrow a chance of continued crappy with a pissy weather front coming down from the north. Basically, it's hotter than a snake's ass in a wagon rut.

Hey, we're back. That last two seconds of silence was Marcel Marceau's newest hit single, "Walkin In The Wind." And now, here are the headlines. Here they come right now. Pope actually found to be Jewish. Liberace is Anastasia and Ethel Merman jams Russian radar. The East Germans, today, claimed the Berlin Wall was a fraternity prank. Also the Pope decided today to release Vatican-related bath products. An incredible thing, yes, it's the new Pope On A Rope. That's right. Pope On A Rope. Wash with it, go straight to heaven. Thank you.

You know, you're very beautiful. You're also very quiet. And I'm not used to girls being that quiet unless they're medicated. Normally I go out with girls who talk so much you could hook them up to a wind turbine and they could power a small New Hampshire town.

Gooooooooood-byyyyyyye Vietnaaaaam! That's right, I'm history... I'm outta here. I got the lucky ticket home, baby. Rollin, rollin, rollin'... keep them wagons rollin', rawhide! Yeah, that's right... the final Adrian Cronauer broadcast... and this one is brought to you by our friends at the Pentagon. Remember the people who brought you Korea? That's right, the U.S. Army. If it's being done correctly, here or abroad, it's probably not being done by the Army.

We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, "O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless… of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?" Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?

Boys, you must strive to find your own voice. Because the longer you wait to begin, the less likely you are to find it at all. Thoreau said, "Most men lead lives of quiet desperation." Don't be resigned to that. Break out!

They're not that different from you, are they? Same haircuts. Full of hormones, just like you. Invincible, just like you feel. The world is their oyster. They believe they're destined for great things, just like many of you. Their eyes are full of hope, just like you. Did they wait until it was too late to make from their lives even one iota of what they were capable? Because you see, gentlemen, these boys are now fertilizing daffodils. But if you listen real close, you can hear them whisper their legacy to you. Go on, lean in. Listen. You hear it?… Carpe… Hear it?… Carpe. Carpe diem. Seize the day, boys. Make your lives extraordinary.

This is a battle, a war, and the casualties could be your hearts and souls.

Phone call from God. If it had been collect, that would have been daring!

O Captain, my Captain. Who knows where that comes from? Anybody? Not a clue? It's from a poem by Walt Whitman about Mr. Abraham Lincoln. Now in this class you can either call me Mr. Keating, or if you're slightly more daring, O Captain my Captain.

Thought about what you said to me the other day, about my painting. Stayed up half the night thinking about it. Something occurred to me... fell into a deep peaceful sleep, and haven't thought about you since. Do you know what occurred to me?

You're just a kid, you don't have the faintest idea what you're talkin' about.

It's all right. You've never been out of Boston.

So if I asked you about art, you'd probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo, you know a lot about him. Life's work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientations, the whole works, right? But I'll bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling; seen that. If I ask you about women, you'd probably give me a syllabus about your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can't tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy. You're a tough kid. And I'd ask you about war, you'd probably throw Shakespeare at me, right, "once more unto the breach dear friends." But you've never been near one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap, watch him gasp his last breath looking to you for help. I'd ask you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you. Who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel, to have that love for her, be there forever, through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in the hospital room for two months, holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes, that the terms "visiting hours" don't apply to you. You don't know about real loss, 'cause it only occurs when you've loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much. And look at you… I don't see an intelligent, confident man… I see a cocky, scared shitless kid. But you're a genius Will. No one denies that. No one could possibly understand the depths of you. But you presume to know everything about me because you saw a painting of mine, and you ripped my fucking life apart. You're an orphan right?

You think I know the first thing about how hard your life has been, how you feel, who you are, because I read Oliver Twist? Does that encapsulate you? Personally... I don't give a shit about all that, because you know what, I can't learn anything from you, I can't read in some fuckin' book. Unless you want to talk about you, who you are. Then I'm fascinated. I'm in. But you don't want to do that do you sport? You're terrified of what you might say. Your move, chief.

You're not perfect, sport, and let me save you the suspense: this girl you've met, she's not perfect either. But the question is whether or not you're perfect for each other.

My father was an alcoholic. Mean fuckin' drunk. He'd come home hammered, looking to whale on somebody. So I'd provoke him, so he wouldn't go after my mother and little brother. Interesting nights were when he wore his rings.

No, I'm not kiddin' you, Will. That's why I'm not talkin' right now about some girl I saw at a bar twenty years ago and how I always regretted not going over and talking to her. I don't regret the 18 years I was married to Nancy. I don't regret the six years I had to give up counseling when she got sick. And I don't regret the last years when she got really sick. And I sure as hell don't regret missin' the damn game. That's regret.

Hey, Gerry, In the 1960s there was a young man that graduated from the University of Michigan. Did some brilliant work in mathematics. Specifically bounded harmonic functions. Then he went on to Berkeley. He was assistant professor. Showed amazing potential. Then he moved to Montana, and blew the competition away.

Yep. Day of the game. I was sittin' in a bar, waitin' for the game to start, and in walks this girl. Oh, it was an amazing game, though. You know, bottom of the eighth, Carbo ties it up at 6-6. It went to twelve. Bottom of the twelfth, in stepped Carlton Fisk. Old Pudge. Steps up to the plate, you know, and he's got that weird stance.

And why does he hang out with those retarded gorillas, as you called them? Because any one of them, if he asked them to, would take a fucking bat to your head, okay? It's called loyalty.

I just have a little question here. You could be a janitor anywhere. Why did work at the most prestigious technical college in the whole fuckin' world? And why did you sneak around at night and finish other people's formulas that only one or two people in the world could do and then lie about it? 'Cause I don't see a lot of honor in that, Will.

You know what? You can shove your medal up your fucking ass! Because I don't give a shit about your medal. Because I knew you before you were a mathematical God. When you were pimple-faced and homesick and didn't know which side of the bed to piss on!

Oh, you arrogant shit! That's why I don't come to the goddamned reunions, 'cause I can't stand that look in your eye. Ya know, that condescending, embarrassed look. You think I'm a failure. I know who I am, and I'm proud of what I do. I was a conscientious choice, I didn't fuck up! And you and your cronies think I'm some sort of pity case. You and your kiss-ass chorus following you around going, "The Fields Medal! The Fields Medal!" Why are you still so fuckin' afraid of failure?