Blanche: Come on, Big Daddy. Sit down here on the sofa betwixt us.
Dorothy: "Betwixt"?
Rose: See, that's another word you don't know. You probably don't even know the thrice of them were sitting on the couch together.

Blanche: Daddy, I've been thinking, and I think I've started to understand the reasons you're doing what you're doing. Can I talk to you? Daddy, when a man reaches your age, why he might start wondering who's going to be there to take care of him.
Big Daddy: Yes, he does.
Blanche: And he might even start looking for somebody to replace his first wife.
Big Daddy: Yes, he might.
Blanche: He might even be looking for ways to feel a little bit younger.
Big Daddy: Yes, he certainly might.
Blanche: But, Daddy, is that reason to get married? Just 'cause some pretty, sexy, bouncing, bubbly young thing takes an interest in you?
Big Daddy: Hell, yes. But there's another reason. Blanche, when you spend six months watching the person you love more than anybody else in the world slowly die, you wonder if you will ever love again. After that, believe me, if you can even think of marrying someone else, there's only one reason. You're in love.
Blanche: I know Momma's dying hurt you quite a bit.
Big Daddy: Yes, it did. But I'm talking about Margaret. Her husband died two years ago, shortly after your momma.
Blanche: I didn't know.
Big Daddy: She loves me and I love her and we want to get married.
Blanche: I'm sorry, Daddy. It seems like every time I'm trying to help you and it turns out you don't need me.
Big Daddy: No, that's not true. The reason Margaret and I came down here in the first place is because we do need you. We need your blessing on our marriage.

Rose: Blanche, do you have a minute? Dorothy and I have been up all night working on a song. We'd like your opinion.
Blanche: Oh, sure.
Dorothy: I think we really might've hit on something.
Dorothy & Rose: [singing] M-l-A, another M-I M-l-A-M-I spells "Miami Beach"
Blanche: Girls.
Dorothy & Rose: It stirs emotion.
Blanche: Girls.
Dorothy & Rose: It's by the ocean.
Blanche: Girls.
Dorothy & Rose: So bring your suntan-
Blanche: Girls.
Dorothy: What?
Blanche: Well, M-l-A-M-I don't spell "Miami Beach". That spells "Miami".
Rose: I told you not to add "Beach".
Dorothy: Oh, fine, fine. You find something to rhyme with "Miami", hotshot.
Rose: Mammy! Whammy, clammy, Alabamy, hootenanny, salami.
Dorothy: "Hootenanny" is marginal, and I refuse to accept "salami".

Blanche: I'd love to hear your song.
Rose: Oh, forget it, Blanche.
Blanche: Please.
Dorothy: The whole experience was too painful.
Blanche: Please.
Dorothy: We just want to put it out of our minds.
Blanche: Please.
Dorothy: Hit it, Rose.

Rose: Oh, Dorothy, I happen to have written songs before. I wrote the fight song for our high school. Onward, St Olaf. They still sing it. [singing] "Onward, St Olaf Onward we go Onward and onward St Olaf's go Go, go, go Go, go, go, go, go"
Dorothy: Rose! Rose, I tell you, honey, it's a catchy tune, but who wrote those lyrics?
Rose: I did. Lyrics aren't even my strong point. I just got lucky that one time.

Dorothy: No, I meant that for $10,000 I might try my hand at lyric-writing. I mean, maybe we could team up.
Rose: You mean, music by Rose Nylund and lyrics by Dorothy Zbornak?
Dorothy: Why not? We could be the next Rodgers and Hammerstein. The next Simon and Garfunkel. The next...
Rose: Shari Lewis and Lamb Chop.
Dorothy: I don't know if I could get my hand that far up your dress. But I'll tell you, for $10,000, I'd be willing to give it a try.

Sophia: I don't believe it. Tony Malanero won't go out with me Friday night.
Dorothy: Ma, I'm not surprised. His wife just died. The man is still in mourning.
Sophia: No, that's not the reason. May Bloomfield beat me to him.

Dorothy: Tell me, did you get a chance to play around with those lyrics I gave you?
Rose: Yeah. Listen to this. [plays piano]
Dorothy: Hey, that sounds great. Let's take it from the top.
Rose: "From the top." Oh, that sounds so musical.
Dorothy: Tickle the ivories, Rose.
Rose: [baby talk]
Dorothy: Rose, play or die.

Blanche: Rose, Dorothy, here, smell me.
Dorothy: I only do that with the milk, Blanche. You know the rules.

Sophia: [answering phone] Hello? That's too bad. A tragedy. A terrible tragedy. May she rest in peace. [hangs up] Great news. Theresa Lombardi passed away.
Dorothy: Ma, what's so great about that?
Sophia: Her husband Freddy, he has nothing to do, and neither one of us has seen Ruthless People.