soliloquist

Acosta, his inner soliloquist liberated at last, engaged in a recitation, whereupon Miller gleefully retorted that said poem, written in 1883 by one Emma Lazarus, was tacked onto the statue years after it was erected.

The wolf sounds like a slightly batty Southern soliloquist in a damp Tennessee Williams production—which is to say, he sounds like Kevin Spacey as Frank Underwood—and he drawls out Frank-inspired aphorisms like “As we used to say back home, sometimes to get what you want, you’ve got to be a bit of a blowhard.”

Either the stars grew less companionable, then, at the thought that some strange deceit was being wrought beneath them, or the soliloquist felt that there yet remained something worth looking after within the parlor, for he looked up at one of the windows of the second story, said: "Ah, no light there, at last!" stepped back to the piazza and once more entered the house and the dancing-room.

Nature and Shakespeare lifted not their veil to the cold artificial soliloquist whose faint delicacy bred its own sickliness, and who, in the march and glitter of his external pomp, only betrayed the internal failure of his vigour.

A tireless soliloquist, the Red-eyed Vireo repeats from our shade and fruit trees in endless succession the broken phrases of his monotonous, rambling recitation.