Sophia: You think you've got problems? I have to kiss a fool to save Dorothy from the curse.
Blanche: So why don't you just kiss Rose and get it over with?
Sophia: Technically, Rose isn't a fool. She's a simpleton.
Blanche: What's the difference?
Sophia: How can I explain it? Fools read "Dear Abby." Simpletons read Ann Landers. It's a fine line.

Derek: I'm Derek. The pleasure is mine.
Blanche: Derek, listen, before we go any further, there's somethin' I have to know.
Derek: Yes?
Blanche: Are the English really as bad in bed as they say?
Derek: Well, we're not insatiable like the Germans, if that's what you mean, but we do have compensating qualities.
Blanche: Such as?
Derek: We're not the French. Bloody frogs. Terrible people.

Miles: Look, Dorothy, about the kiss.
Dorothy: What kiss? I didn't see a kiss. Was there a kiss?
Miles: No. And neither of us must speak of it, because it never really happened.
Dorothy: At least it wouldn't have if you hadn't started up with me.
Miles: Me? I did no such thing.
Dorothy: Oh, please. You with your neatly trimmed beard and your flat stomach.
Miles: Oh, and I suppose it was a mere accident that you happen to have the softest lips this side of my mother.