![]() ![]() (After a pause) I’ve always made a point of not wasting my life, and everytime I come back here I know that all I’ve done is to waste my life. And now, I get here, and I don’t know what to do with myself. And whenever spring comes to where I am, I suddenly get the feeling, my God, I’m not getting anywhere! What the hell am I doing, playing around with horses, twenty eight dollars a week! I’m thirty-four years old, I oughta be makin my future. And it’s cool there now, see? Texas is cool now and it’s spring. There’s nothing more inspiring or–beautiful than the sight of a mare and a new colt. This farm I work on, it’s spring there now, see? And they’ve got about fifteen new colts. It’s why I came home now, I guess, because I realized it. In Nebraska when I herded cattle, and the Dakotas, and Arizona, and now in Texas. Hap, I’ve had twenty or thirty different kinds of jobs since I left home before the war, and it always turns out the same. Monologue options Play:Death of a Salesman Author:Arthur Miller Character:Biff Loman Summary:Biff, who has been living in his fathers shadow for his whole. And always to have to get ahead of the next fella. To suffer fifty weeks of the year for the sake of a two week vacation, when all you really desire is to be outdoors, with your shirt off. To devote your whole life to keeping stock, or making phone calls, or selling or buying. To get on that subway on the hot mornings in summer. Shipping clerk, salesman, business of one kind or another. BIFF: Well, I spent six or seven years after high school trying to work myself up. ![]()
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