Rose: Please, Blanche, please. I'm too scared to go back to my room. This kind of thing has always frightened me, ever since I was a little girl, when I first heard my parents whispering about the St. Olaf slasher.
Blanche: Slasher?
Rose: Yes. Oh, he terrorized St. Olaf for months. In the dark of night, he'd sneak into an unsuspecting farmer's field and mercilessly slash his scarecrow to shreds.
Blanche: He was a scarecrow slasher?
Rose: Primarily. Although he was suspected in the disfigurement of several whisk brooms. Oh, I was so scared at night, I'd sleep in the closet so he couldn't find me.

Rose: What are you doing?
Blanche: I am contouring my eyebrows. I use Miss Christie Brinkley as a guide 'cause we have the exactly same bone structure. I just hope she doesn't go to pot after that baby comes. I don't want that big-eyed husband of hers coming after me.
Rose: I never do very much with my eyebrows.
Blanche: That's why, from the nose up, you look like Wilfred Brimley.

Blanche: Oh, girls, girls, can I please share your electric blanket?
Dorothy & Sophia: No.
Blanche: Oh, come on. I can't sleep. My bed's never been so cold. Especially on a Saturday night.

Rose: What a terrible night that was.
Blanche: Oh, it wasn't so bad. Something good did come out of it. I dated Floppo the clown for several months after that. You know, his feet really were that big. Which, of course, as I'm sure you're both aware, means...

Dorothy: I'm sorry, I'm just cranky. You're right. I am a lousy patient. I always have been. I remember when I was a little girl and I used to get those terrible chest colds. And you'd whip up a batch of that homemade liniment to rub on my chest. Ooh, that was nasty stuff. Cod-liver oil, garlic, petroleum jelly, parsley. I remember once I asked you, "Why parsley?" You said, "Presentation is very important." Oh, whenever I saw you coming down the hall with that ceramic bowl and a paintbrush, I'd run and hide under my bed and cry. Then you'd rub some on my doll, Mrs Doolittle, to show me that it didn't hurt. And I'd come out from under the bed and you'd put it on my chest. Next day I'd always feel better. You remember, Ma? [Sophia is asleep in Dorothy's bed] Good night, Ma. Thanks for everything.

Rose: I'm not going to be able to sleep. I'm on the wrong side of the bed.
Blanche: Well, I usually sleep on the right side and I wanna be on the right side.
Sophia: What the hell is everyone so particular about? In Sicily, four in a bed is a treat. It means half your family is on vacation. I slept with my two brothers until I was 17. I was engaged to one for a very short period of time. But that's a separate story.

Blanche: What are you doing?
Rose: I've been tinkering with the heater trying to get it to work.
Dorothy: Oh, Rose, you're a genius.
Sophia: Boy, that's a sentence you don't hear every day.

Blanche: Sophia, what are you doing up?
Sophia: I'm cooking. I couldn't sleep.
Blanche: Me neither. What are you making?
Sophia: Sausage and peppers, pasta pesto, and ziti with oil and garlic.
Blanche: Ooh. Ooh. And what's this?
Sophia: Garbage. Rose cooked it.

Rose: I do not talk in my sleep.
Blanche: Oh, yes, you do too. And you snore.
Rose: No, I don't.
Rose: Dorothy snores.
Blanche: Oh, that's right. Dorothy, you snore worse than a sailor passed out at an adult motel after a night of unbridled passion while I called a cab to take me ho... Never mind. The point is, you snore.

Sophia: Salvadore, if you wanna fool around, take off your T-shirt. You're gonna get linguine all over me.
Dorothy: Ma. Ma, go back to sleep. It's just me. Dorothy.
Sophia: Get the hell out of my bed.
Dorothy: Ma, have a heart. The heat went out again. I'm freezing to death. You're the only one who has an electric blanket.
Sophia: I'll die under here with you. Your body is like a heat sponge. You'll suck up the heat and I'll get up in the morning a frozen fish stick.
Dorothy: Ma, don't be ridiculous. Just turn up the heat.
Sophia: It's already on nine. On ten you can cook a Lean Cuisine.