Sophia: I thought I heard voices. Now I see that only two of them are God-fearing.
Dorothy: Ma, will you get off my back, I feel bad enough.
Sophia: You? What about me? Eighty-one-years I've eaten fish on Friday, even when the Pope told me I didn't have to. I go to Mass, I light candles, and for what? So it could all be flushed down the toilet, because my daughter insists on going out with Father Happy Pants.
Dorothy: Ma, you're not making it any easier.
Sophia: Look, Dorothy, in the end, only you can decide what's right for you. And whatever decision it is, I'll stand by you.
Dorothy: Thanks, Ma.
Sophia: Just remember, make the wrong decision, you'll burn in hell forever. Sleep tight, pussycat.