Long Day's Journey Into Night
If there was only some place I could go to get away for a day, or even an afternoon, some woman friend I could talk to – not about anything serious, simply laugh and gossip and forget for a while – someone besides the servants – that stupid Cathleen! (1.1.209)
With a resentment that has a quality of being automatic and on the surface while inwardly she is indifferent. Yes it's very trying, Jamie. You don't know how trying. You don't have to keep house with summer servants who don't care because they know it isn't a permanent position. The really good servants are all with people who have homes and not merely summer places. And your father won't even pay the wages the best summer help ask. So every year I have stupid, lazy greenhorns to deal with. But you've heard me say this a thousand times. So has he, but it goes in one ear and out the other. He thinks money spent on a home is money wasted. He's lived too much in hotels. Never the best hotels, of course. Second-rate hotels. He doesn't understand a home. He's even proud of having this shabby place. He loves it here. (2.1.58)
You've both flouted the faith you were born and brought up in – the one true faith of the Catholic Church – and your denial has brought nothing but self destruction! […]
We don't pretend, at any rate.
I don't notice you've worn any holes in the knees of your pants going to Mass. (2.2.32)
I even dreamed of becoming a nun. I've never had the slightest desire to be an actress.
Well, I can't imagine you a holy nun, Ma'am. Sure, you never darken the door of a church, God forgive you. (3.1.27-28)