Dorothy: Rose, I have a confession to make. When I said I thought Baby shouldn't go back to the farm, I wasn't thinking of him. I was thinking of myself. I was acting out of greed. I wanted the money.
Blanche: Dorothy, I am shocked!
Rose: So am I! I can't believe you lied to me.
Blanche: Well, now don't be too hard on her, Rose. Although she may have been doing it for the wrong reason, at least the decision was right because Baby is better off here.
Blanche: Why ya'll looking at me like I'm a murderer? I tell you, this pig is dying because he's old and sick. Now, I refuse to even entertain the notion that he's slipping away because he's homesick for this godforsaken place. [Baby squeals] What's going on?
Rose: I think he recognizes the picture of Uncle Hingeblotter's farm.
Blanche: Oh, my God! Then he is homesick. I'm a murderer. I'm nothing but no-good money-grubbing trash. Oh, Baby, forgive me.