Sophia: This is the kind of mistake you're supposed to make when you're 19. It gives me hope to think you can be just as dopey at 82.
Max: So. Do you want to get a divorce?
Sophia: Hey, I'm Catholic. I don't need a divorce on my record with St. Peter in spitting distance. I say we get separated.
Max: Fine. That's a better idea. I'll go back to Brooklyn. My family's there, my grandkids. And I miss the old neighborhood.
Sophia: And I'll stay here in Miami. Ever since I lost my Sal, the ladies I live with are my family. But that doesn't mean we can't get together occasionally for... you know.
Max: You can do that when you're just good friends?
Sophia: Hey, I want to get in good with St. Peter, I don't want his job.