Big Daddy: Do my eyes deceive me or do I see Sophia Petrillo standing before me? Or did you all get Sophia Loren as the new roommate?
Sophia: Get out the boots. He's back.

Blanche: That child is trying to steal my Daddy away. She's no better than a tick on a slow-moving hound dog.
Dorothy: Why is everyone around here talking like Burl Ives?

Blanche: Oh, Sophia, look here's a postcard from Big Daddy and Margaret. They say they're having the time of their life honeymooning in the Bahamas.
Sophia: Please. The big news is, he lived through the wedding night.
Blanche: Sophia, you know people in their seventies and eighties can have great sex.
Sophia: Yeah, with people in their seventies and eighties. Put me in a bedroom with Tom Cruise and you'd be peeling me off the ceiling.

Dorothy: Morning, Ma. Working on the crossword puzzle?
Sophia: Nope. Just lining up a few dates. Let's see. Maria Malanero, 85, died of natural causes, survived by her husband Tony Malanero.
Dorothy: You're getting dates out of the obituaries? That's sick.
Sophia: It is not sick. It's practical. Life is for the living. Maria's loss is my date for the Early Bird Special at the Howard Johnson.

Dorothy: You know, Rose, I have to confess, I dabbled a little in poetry-writing in high school.
Rose: Oh, well, that's nothing to be ashamed of. A lot of tall girls who couldn't get dates wrote poetry in high school.

Rose: Dorothy and I have decided to enter a songwriting contest together.
Blanche: Now, that sounds like fun. You know, I always wanted to write a song, but it's kind of like writing poetry, which I was never any good at. Only the tall girls who couldn't get dates seemed to be good at poetry.

Blanche: [on the phone] Big Daddy. How in the world are you? I'm just fine. How can you say I look younger and more beautiful over the telephone? No, it's true. I just wondered how you knew over the telephone.

Dorothy: [singing as Rose plays piano] Miami is nice So I'll say it twice Miami is nice, Miami is nice Miami is n- Wait. Wait a minute. Wait. You put in an extra "Miami is nice."
Rose: I had to, it hurts the music if you don't put it in.
Dorothy: Yeah, but the lyrics don't make any sense. I mean, it goes, "Miami is nice So I'll say it twice"
Rose: Oh, I see your point. Well, what about this? Miami is nice So I'll say it thrice-
Dorothy: Thrice? Who the hell says "thrice"?
Rose: It's a word. So is "intrauterine". But it does not belong in a song.
Rose: [playing piano and singing] Miami, you're cuter than An intrauterine

Blanche: This is the last drop of that perfume Big Daddy gave me on my 21st. That was 20 years ago.
Rose: Blanche, if your 21st birthday was then, you'd only be 41.
Blanche: That's right.
Rose: Then you look terrible for your age.

Blanche: Big Daddy, let me look at you.
Big Daddy: Let me look at you. You're still as pretty as a ladybug sunning itself on a lily pad on a misty spring day south of Savannah.
Dorothy: Could you be more specific, Big Daddy?