The Nose On Her Face

(((MAUDE is the single owner of a small farm in a Southern town. She grew up there, and took over running it when her father died. She has recently hired John, a man who recently moved to the town, to help around the farm, and has been inviting him to dinner and church.
In this scene, her neighbour, Sharon (a slightly younger woman who moved from the city to care for an aging father), has just finished explaining that personal and working relationships are generally best kept separate in a subtle effort to discourage Maude’s attempts at romance. They are in Maude’s kitchen. Maude speaks with a Southern (U.S.) accent.)))

MAUDE: I don’t understand you, Sharon. The way you think, the way you act, most especially the way you say one thing and mean something totally different. I just…Forgive me, but I just plumb don’t understand you. I reckon it's some big city thing. Maybe there it's...fashionable to be vague, like some folks is wearing white after Labor Day now and saying it's all right. But 'round here, we're simple folks. We go to church on Sunday, bake a casserole when somebody dies, and visit neighbors on the way back from town. We love visiting, but in these parts, we ain't got time to talk in circles like you're so fond of doing. So, I don't mean to be rude, but don't come 'round here with your fancy talk 'bout the "dangers of workplace relationships". For one, this ain’t a workplace, it’s a farm. And I may be a simple woman, but I am a woman first. And as a woman, I know that John's good at what he does. The animals works well with him - I works well with him. I trust him, I respect him, I like talking with him, I like just being with him. "Proper" or not, that ain't never gonna change. You don't know how rare it is to find a man like him out here, a man with a level head that's interested in more than your crops, your livestock, or how far you can get your ankles behind your ears.
Or maybe you do.
I know you've got your eye on him, Sharon - you have done since he started working here. You follow him around making eyes, making your usual riddle of a conversation. And I know good and well that if he noticed half of what I do, he'd be on one knee in the kitchen floor this very minute. But he ain't never gonna get the point the way you go about it, and I ain't fixing to give up so he can find some hussy from the Valley and go the way of all the other decent men that've passed through this town. You want him bad enough you're willing to fight for him, he's yours. The desire's there, I can see it, but is it strong enough? 'Cause until you care enough to stand up for yourself and say, "Damn it, Maude, I love him!" I don't want you talking to me about working relationships. I don't want you talking to me about relationships of any kind.