Becky: Well, Mama, I'm gonna do this whether you like it or not.
Blanche: Oh. Oh, I see, missy. So, this is the thanks I get for all those cold nights when you were a baby crying and I'd have to get up out of bed and grope around in the dark for my slippers and robe, make my way all the way downstairs and scream for the governess?

Blanche: I tried to talk her out of it. She says she has thought it through and there is no changing her mind.
Rose: Well, it might not be so bad. In fact, just last week I was reading that you can buy the sperm of Nobel Prize winners. Or was it Star Search winners?
Blanche: Buy? Well, sperm used to be free. It was all over the place.

Dorothy: Look, Blanche, what Rebecca is doing is really not so terrible. I mean, look, among the four of us, each of us conceived our children in a different way. I was totally unconscious. When I came to, there was Stan, carving a notch in his dashboard.
Sophia: I never bought that unconscious story.
Dorothy: I swear. He must've slipped me something.
Sophia: Apparently.
Blanche: But at least what we all did was natural.
Sophia: Well, not all the time. There's some other stuff, but I probably shouldn't tell you till you're 70.

Rose: Can I fix you some breakfast, honey?
Blanche: No, thanks. Oh, I just feel terrible. If I'm gonna spend the night tossing and turning at least I wanna wake up smelling like aftershave.

Becky: I got up early and did some research. There's a sperm bank not far from here.
Rose: How convenient.
Sophia: No kidding. Do they have a drive-up window?

Becky: So, I guess we're going?
Blanche: Oh, I guess. What does one wear to a sperm bank?
Dorothy: Something attractive in rubber.
Blanche: I have that.

Rose: How did things go at the doctor's, Sophia?
Sophia: He said I have the body of a 40-year-old. A dead 40-year-old.

Sophia: I bet this is more fun than giving blood.

Dorothy: Eyes straight, ladies. Ma, no opening doors.

Blanche: What in hell are we doing here? I feel like I'm in the middle of some awful dream, yet I know it can't be a dream 'cause there are no boy dancers.
Becky: Mother!
Blanche: I just cannot believe you are actually gonna give money to someone like this... sperm pusher. You are a Devereaux. A Devereaux has never had to pay for it. I certainly haven't.
Dorothy: She's always depended on the kindness of strangers.