Soliloquy is dead; colloquy shot her.

Modern realism euthanized classical soliloquy.

Soliloquy once wore ermine; it
can now wear cotton.

Soliloquy is constructed from the shattered pieces in every pulverized heart.

Without soliloquy there is only commentary.

Conflict is the engine powering the spinning wheels, screeching tires and lurching sheet-metal of soliloquy.

Twitter has no room in the inn.

A short rant is like a roller coaster that stops at the top of the ride.

It is said that modern audiences don’t have the patience for soliloquy; what they actually lack is the impatience for it.

Thank God Shakespeare knew how to go on and on.

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