Father Salerno: Folks, to begin this part of the service, Phil's sister, Dorothy, will say a few words. Dorothy. Please don't take this wrong, but I've got to know. You are a girl, aren't you?
Dorothy: Seems like I'm always mad at my brother Phil. I was mad the day my parents brought him back from the hospital. I thought he'd take their love away from me, and instead, their love expanded and we felt more like a family. I was mad at him when I was ten and he was four and we moved to a new neighborhood. I was mad because he always made new friends more easily than I did. And I'm mad today, because I never wanted to give the eulogy at my kid brother's funeral. I'm mad because he died. He didn't have the wisdom to know that family members shouldn't allow themselves to grow apart. Because when this day comes, they can no longer tell each other how they care. If he'd had that wisdom, he could have shared it with me and I would have known the hundreds of memories I have of just the two of us. Eating ice cream on the stoop of our building, or going through the drawers at Grandma's house, or dressing up like the Bronte sisters. How those memories fill me with joy. Why didn't you have that wisdom, Phil? Why didn't you give us a chance to tell you how much we loved you?

Sophia: [sobbing] I did love him. He was my son. My little boy. But every time I saw him I always wondered what I did, what I said, when was the day that I did whatever I did to make him the way he was.
Angela: What he was, Sophia, was a good man.
Sophia: [crying] My baby is gone!
Angela: Oh, Sophia.

Dorothy: Oh, Ma, don't you think this feud between you and Angela has gone on long enough?
Sophia: It's 26 years. In Sicily that's not a feud. In Sicily people scream at each other for centuries, and they throw pasta at each other. Pasta and sauce. Rich sauce with delicious seafood. Mussels, shrimp- Wait a minute. I think I switched from feud to food.

Sophia: Dorothy, I never understood why your brother wore women's clothes, unless he was queer.
Blanche: Sophia, people don't say "queer" anymore. They say "gay."
Sophia: They say "gay" if a guy can sing the entire score of Gigi. But a six-foot-three, 200-pound married man with kids who likes to dress up like Dorothy Lamour? I think you have to go with queer.

Dorothy: Rose, can you help me with this necklace?
Rose: Oh, sure.
Dorothy: Ugh, I'm so nervous. Have you ever given a eulogy?
Rose: You mean at a funeral?
Dorothy: No, Rose, at a pie-eating contest.

Dorothy: I wonder who they are?
Blanche: You mean you don't know them?
Dorothy: No.
Blanche: Now this is awful.
Dorothy: What? What's awful?
Blanche: Well, isn't it obvious? Veiled, shapely creatures, unknown to the family, coming to say one last secret goodbye to their special friend.
Dorothy: You mean?
Blanche: That's right. Sluts.
Angela: I can't believe they came all the way from Newark.
Dorothy: You know them?
Angela: Phil tried to keep them a secret, but I knew he was spending his Thursday nights with them.
Blanche: Oh, I know it's hard, but try not to hate 'em, my dear. They're just lonely creatures who reached out to another person for a little warmth.
Angela: These are the guys from Phil's poker game.
Blanche: This is too funny. I have to get my camera from the car.

Dorothy: Ugh, I just don't know what I'm gonna say.
Rose: Well, actually, I was asked to say a few words at Lenny Linderflot's funeral once. Everybody thought we were good friends, 'cause all through school, he sat right in front of me because we were in alphabetical order. But in reality, all I knew about Lenny was what the back of his head looked like.
Dorothy: So, what did you say?
Rose: "I loved the back of Lenny Linderflot's head. He had the back of the head of an honest man. And after seeing him face-up in the casket today, not a bad-looking guy either."

Blanche: Ready?
Dorothy: To run with the bulls in Pamplona?
Blanche: Dorothy, you know this is my funeral dress. I don't believe in wearing black, unless I'm a little bloated.

Sophia: Well, I'm all set. What's with Satan's secretary?
Blanche: Sophia, I believe Phil would have liked this dress.
Sophia: Liked it? He would have looked great in it.

Blanche: He looks very peaceful and natural.
Dorothy: As natural as a man can look wearing a black teddy.
Rose: It's a beautiful teddy. I think more men should be buried in teddies.
Dorothy: I've just got to remember, it's not the clothes that make the man, it's the man that makes the clothes. Oh, God, he looks like he died in a Benny Hill sketch.