"Lines of weariness around the eyes, lines of discontent down from the mouth, breasts lying heavily in little hammocks, stomach and thighs straining against cases of rubber. And the mouths panting, the eyes sullen, disliking sun and wind and earth, resenting food and weariness, hating time that rarely makes them beautiful and always makes them old.
[...] with puzzled, worried eyes, with restless eyes. Worried because formulas do not work out; hungry for security and yet sensing its disappearance from the earth. [...] reassure themselves [...] that their lives are rich instead of the thin tiresome routines they know; and that a time is comming that they will not be affraid any more.
And these two [...] watch people they envy go by, to look at mountains - mountains, mind you, and great trees - he with his worried eyes and she thinking how the sun will dry her skin. [...] I'll bet a hundred thousand dollars to nothing at all, he will say, "It isn't as big as I thought it would be." And she will envy plump young bodies on the beach. [...] Really to go home again."

John Steinbeck in The Grapes of Wrath