Sophia: Wait a second. Barbara Thorndyke. Didn't she write "Evil Wind Over Pensacola"?
Dorothy: Oh, you know it?
Sophia: Know it? I go to bed with it every night.
Blanche: What's it about?
Sophia: How should I know? My mattress frame lost a caster. I use it to keep the bed level.

Dorothy: Boy, did I misjudge you. You know, Blanche and Rose were right. You are not the kind of person I want as a friend. Why don't you go to the Mortimer Club by yourself.
Barbara: I don't understand.
Dorothy: Let me spell it out for you. Go to hell.

Rose: Dorothy, the masquerade ball is Friday night. You know how much it means to me. I'm counting on you to be the rear end of my horse.
Dorothy: Rose, sweetheart, this Friday I can choose between rubbing elbows with Norman Mailer, or doing the hokey-pokey in a horse costume with your behind in my face.
Rose: Well, which is it gonna be?

Blanche: Hi, Sophia. What you cooking?
Sophia: Lasagna, for a guy at the center.
Blanche: Oh! Is he cute?
Sophia: Cute. He's 84, doesn't have a hair on his head or a real tooth in his mouth, and his body's covered with liver spots. To answer your question, he's adorable.

Rose: Look at the great costume I got for the masquerade ball. I can't decide whether to be the front end or the rear end.
Sophia: I'm in a romantic mood. I'm gonna let that golden opportunity pass right by.

Blanche: Dorothy, it'll be fun.
Dorothy: It will not be fun. There is no fun in my life. Have you ever felt like you're stuck in a rut, going through the motions with no joy, pleasure or excitement?
Sophia: Sure. That was my sex life with your father.

Dorothy: Ma, my job is routine. I have virtually no social life and nothing interests me. My life has just become dull and boring.
Sophia: Where's that sense of fun, that lighthearted laughter, that devil-may-care attitude?
Blanche: Sophia, when was Dorothy ever like that?
Sophia: Never. I've been asking her these questions since she was 12.

Blanche: Dorothy, you can't help it if you're dull and boring. God did that to give the world some variety. Otherwise, everybody would be just like me.
Dorothy: And there wouldn't be enough sailors to go around.

Blanche: Now, Dorothy, if you're saying you can't get stimulating conversation around this house, I beg to differ.
Rose: I can't believe it. It says since Michael Jackson can't buy the Elephant Man, he's now put in a bid for the remains of the Big Bopper.
Blanche: Rose, you can't believe everything you read in that rag. It caters to people of the lowest intelligence.
Rose: Then why do you buy it?
Blanche: Because it's the only newspaper Elvis will talk to from beyond the grave.

Rose: Barbara Thorndyke is coming here? Wow. I've never met a real author before.
Blanche: I have. I once stood in line two hours at a bookstore for Arnold Schwarzenegger's autograph.
Dorothy: When I think of great literary figures of our time, it's usually, uh, Faulkner, Fitzgerald, and Schwarzenegger.
Rose: Did he sign your book?
Blanche: Yes. But only after he refused to sign my thigh.
Dorothy: He was probably intimidated to see a thigh bigger than his.