Death of a Salesman
WILLY: How can he find himself on a farm? Is that a life? A farmhand? In the beginning, when he was young, I thought, well, a young man, it’s good for him to tramp around, take a lot of different jobs. But it’s more than ten years now and he has yet to make thirty-five dollars a week!
LINDA: He’s finding himself, Willy.
WILLY: Not finding yourself at the age of thirty-four is a disgrace! (Act 1)
WILLY: [noticing her mending] What’s that?
LINDA: Just mending my stockings. They’re so expensive!
WILLY: [angrily, taking them from her]: I won’t have you mending stockings in this house! Now throw them out!
[Linda puts the stockings in her pocket] (Act 1)
BIFF: Because I know he’s a fake and he doesn’t like anybody around who knows!
LINDA: Why a fake? In what way? What do you mean?
BIFF: Just don’t lay it all at my feet. It’s between me and him—that’s all I have to say. (Act 1)