Dorothy: Maybe there is something I can say. And I want to apologize for this story before I begin. Have you ever heard of a little town called St. Olaf?
Fred: No.
Dorothy: Perfect. Now, as it was told to me - and I have to admit that I wasn't listening that closely - there was this farmer named Nils Nibelung, and he had a pig named Brunhilde, and she won all the blue ribbons at all the county fairs. Well, Nils also had a daughter named Fricka, and she won red ribbons - usually as runner-up to the pig.
Fred: Does this story have a point?
Dorothy: You asked that at just the right time. Anyway, one April, Nils decided to breed Brunhilde - that's the pig, not the daughter - and he chose April because that's when pigs are at their most beautiful and desirable. Unfortunately, so was Fricka. So while Brunhilde and the pig were doing their thing, Fricka and the local pig breeder were doing theirs. God, I hope I got the names right. Anyway, when Nils heard about it, he banished Fricka from his house and his life forever.
Fred: So?
Dorothy: So after a while he lost interest in the pig's company and he ate her. And he died St. Olaf's loneliest man.
Fred: Is that the end of the story?
Dorothy: God, I hope so.

Dorothy: Floozy.
Blanche: Tramp.
Dorothy: I? [laughing] I am a tramp? Blanche, have you heard the latest ad campaigns? Join the Navy, see the world, sleep with Blanche Devereaux? Join the Army, be all you can be, and sleep with Blanche Devereaux? The Marines are looking for a few good men who have not slept with Blanche Devereaux.

Blanche: Oh, I guess there must be a reason why women have babies when they're 20ish instead of 40ish.
Dorothy: Blanche, the only thing in this room that's 40ish is your hairdo.

Blanche: Oh, girls, I'm so sorry to be late. I ran out of gas on the way home. It was just horrible. Nobody would stop to help me. This could never have happened in the Old South. What has become of chivalry, when men used to open doors for you, pull out your chair, tip their hat, kiss your hand, help you down out of your carriage, leave calling cards on little silver salvers?
Dorothy: So how far back do you want to go, Blanche? Do you still want to be able to vote?

Blanche: Dorothy, you could be my chaperone.
Dorothy: Oh, please.
Blanche: No, I'm serious. You're the perfect third wheel. I don't mean that in a negative way. I just mean you make men uncomfortable. It's a gift. Don't waste it. Well, as long as you don't mean it in a negative way. Oh, of course not. You know, growing up in the South-
Dorothy: God, here it comes! The honeysuckle, mint juleps, three-legged dogs, you and Opie and Floyd and the barbershop. Blanche, get to the point.

Marlowe: Nice try, ma' am, but Philip and Gloria are innocent of those crimes.
Dorothy: Perhaps, but they are both murderers.
Sophia: Sit down, Dorothy. Don't make a fool of yourself.
Marlowe: Would you care to explain?
Dorothy: In the first place, it is unlikely that Gloria murdered her father. Statistics show that patricide is overwhelmingly a male crime. Although daughters frequently murder their mothers!

Dorothy: Look, Lucas, no offense, but hardware doesn't sound terribly romantic. So when you come by tomorrow, why don't you tell Blanche that you took me to hear the Emerson String Quartet?
Lucas: I love it. Do you think they might buy that afterwards we frolicked in the ocean?
Dorothy: Oh, gosh, I haven't frolicked since... Uh, well, since... Since the day I dropped my mother off at Shady Pines. Coincidentally, that was the last time I did a cartwheel. It was a good day.

[Dorothy holds a hand-mirror under Sophia's mouth]
Rose: What are you doing? She's sleeping.
Dorothy: Just checking. You never know.

Rose: Arnie wants me to go away with him on a cruise to the Bahamas.
Blanche: Oh, and you're upset because he wants you to pay your own way?
Rose: I'm upset because we'll be all alone. In the middle of the ocean. On a ship. In a state room. With a bed.
Blanche: Oh.
Rose: I don't know what to do. I haven't been with a man in that special way since Charlie died.
Blanche: Get out of here!
Rose: It's true! Charlie was the only lover I ever had. And my first time was on our wedding night.
Blanche: Get out of here!
Dorothy: Oh, back off, Blanche! Not all of us are classified by the Navy as a friendly port!

Dorothy: Blanche, come on. Don't be absurd. Look, we were robbed, and now it's over. It has nothing to do with energy. It has nothing to do with being single. It has to do with a lousy lock on a sliding door and massive unemployment. Now, I'm going into my room. Call me when the cops come.
Rose: We're all employed, Dorothy, except your mother. I wouldn't call that "massive."
Dorothy: Good night, Rose. Go to sleep, sweetheart. Pray for brains.