Soliloquy Quotes

“This goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?”
― William Shakespeare, Hamlet

“Did I live the spring I’d sought?
It’s true in joy, I walked along,
took part in dance,
and sang the song.
and never tried to bind an hour
to my borrowed garden bower;
nor did I once entreat
a day to slumber at my feet.

Yet days aren’t lulled by lyric song,
like morning birds they pass along,
o’er crests of trees, to none belong;
o’er crests of trees of drying dew,
their larking flight, my hands, eschew
Thus I’ll say it once and true…

From all that I saw,
and everywhere I wandered,
I learned that time cannot be spent,
It only can be squandered.”
― Roman Payne, Rooftop Soliloquy

“My Love wakes in a puddle of sunlight.
Her hands asleep beside her.
Her hair draped on the lawn
like a mantle of cloth.
I give her my life
for our love is whole
I sing her beauty
in my soul.”
― Roman Payne

“You didn’t want to put in the work to make us happen.”
It was true. I had been so captivated by Duncan, so enamored, so infatuated, that I let his life drown mine for two years. I went along, and when I got tired of it, tired of it just being easy and comfortable and convenient but not love, I ended it. And that was why I had the man in my lobby looking at me like there were still places for us to go.
I had let him believe that he was my whole world, let him be everything, and then one day just stopped loving him and walked away. It was something I did, something I had always done—poured on the charm, made myself into the ideal partner, lover, friend, indispensable and irreplaceable, and then, when I got bored or tired or tapped out, instead of fighting, I just quit. It was wildly unfair, and the only people I didn’t do it with were my family. Even my friends complained that I was always around and then just gone.
Nathan Qells”
― Mary Calmes, Acrobat

“Beauty is scandalous sir! It takes away a man's reason and cedes him unreasonable fervor. For you see sir! A man profligate as me; has found in this destitution
that a reasonable man is more likely to lead a
content life. That's the best a man can be sir, content.
Especially an eternally dejected man, such as myself.
Who has lost his ability to be pleased.”
― Teufel Damon

“Death's Embrace - A Soliloquy by Stewart Stafford

In sincere tongue, declare with heart:
Art thou but a mimic, shadow of the art,
Or standest thou bold, architect of the new,
Crafting the morrow in thy vision true?

Unburden me from this oppressive weight,
I cannot bear this overwhelming force.
Despair hath found its pinnacle in me,
And I must peer into realms unknown,
If cherished sight fails me at mine end,
I shall renounce all chimeras of the light.

But fall not tamely from Life’s precipice,
Death presses hard on thy frail fingers,
Hold on, cry, resist thy certain ruin!
Trouble's court, may yet bestow thee favour.
Dreams are but fancies giv’n swift wings,
That soar beyond the bounds of reason;
In minds that dare to fly unshackled,
The dreamer becometh the vision.

Love is both a journey and destination:
Long and painful upon the path,
Unsought, yet blissful when it is found.
From dust conjur’d — to stars, we’re turned.
Beware the self-righteous man,
Whose pride does unseat the very world
Before he sees his error.

Piteous wounds of thine own hand,
'Tis easy to judge from afar
Without walking with aching bones.
If there be cause that yet remaineth here,
It showeth their harshness and injustice
To themselves and their loving others.
Mourn their release with mercy and thanks
Transient whispers guide along chance’s way.

Weep not for those who have found Death’s embrace,
They lament for us who tarry on old shores.
Death but ushers a veiled dawn, not life's twilight,
A metamorphosis of guise, not of the spirit's light.
Though we must part for now, we shall be one again.
For love’s wrought by flesh, yet holds not its chain.

Time-worn age stoops; penitents depart.
Pawned as one in vigilant trance
But what a folly 'tis to mark the signs of our undoing;
Memory's comet trails bequeathed to loved ones left,
Contagion's rehearsal on the ephemeral stage.
With luck, a stand-in may go on in thy stead.
Ere thy final bow becomes unavoidable.

With tyrant Death prowling public ways,
I turn from mankind hence to seek delight.
A chamber ceiling seen upon morn's wake,
I say: “The sun does rise? Let's haste away!”
Upon waking, a stone tomb's ashen lid,
I would perchance say: “Alas!..mine eyes do grow heavy.”

A life well-liv’d is not weigh’d by earthly goods
Or the number of mourners at the grave.
Numerous, deep laugh lines tell the tale,
On the face of the person lying still in the crypt,
Reveals threescore years and twelve’s true worth.
Death is not the villain of the piece;
It is the next phase of life, in strange attire.
I accept my fate with grace and courage.
For I have liv’d and lov’d and dream’d enough.

© Stewart Stafford, 2024. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“A Mind's Minotaur - A Soliloquy by Stewart Stafford

In a labyrinth’s mental corridors, prisoner of consciousness,
Fleeing a Minotaur I fear is me.
Achilles' heel, masked by strength hath shown,
An arrow cometh from Time's swift flight,
For those with bountiful time enow,
Find themselves slain in a heroic light.
When thou dost gaze upon the world below,
And scorn its depths, thou canst not comprehend
The truths that pool o'er its shadow, glow.
No tears stain that meadow of solace,
A phantom limb, tickling in memory's store,
Galley slaves in hurricane's heart so lashed.
Transient madness and renown, conjoin on pomp’s bridge,
Champions of the joust wave paramour's kerchief,
Revered statues limp from a pedestal's ridge.
The signs of pride and brittle ardour,
The hubristic bite of isolation's cur.
The death warrant quill must ne'er be stilled,
For authority doth stifle beauty's song,
Staged chaos through the written word is willed.
Phantasy's balm to verity's scourging,
A cleansing soak of battle-scarred minds,
And in the dark, imagination reigns.
He who hath fear of the dark hath vision keen,
Whilst those who see but naught are dull and plain.
Thus, let us not be swayed by others' lore,
But splay in error, heal to prosper once more.
Idolatrous moth to lechery's candlelight,
In lover's tongues, passion's seared delight.

© 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford