Blanche: I know what I'm talking about because I was in a very similar situation once. He was a man of the cloth. Totally dedicated to his vocation or so he said, but his eyes told me he was dedicated to me. We both knew it was wrong and we fought our feelings with every bone in our hot, longing, writhing bodies. Finally, it was just too much for us and we gave up and checked into a Best Western.
Dorothy: You had an affair with a priest?
Blanche: Priest? I didn't say he was a priest. I said he was "a man of the cloth". He was a fabric salesman. You know, we never made love again after that, but he did cover my La-Z-Boy for free.

Dorothy: I don't think I can do it.
Blanche: Oh, Dorothy, of course you can. Look here, now you be Frank. I'll be you. OK? Why, Frank, you know I've been thinking, this is the third Saturday of our relationship and I don't even know what you like to eat. Why don't you come over for dinner this Saturday night and let me find out what whets your appetite.
Dorothy: And what are you serving for dessert, Blanche, penicillin?

Frank: Good evening.
Blanche: ... ... Good evening, Father. My, my, this must be an important cause. Don't you usually make the nuns ask for money? I'll get my purse.
Frank: I'm Frank. I'm here to see Dorothy.
Blanche: ... You're the hunk? I mean Forgive me, Father. That is, forgive my language, not in your official capacity. I'm not even a Catholic. I'm a Baptist and you can't forgive us Baptists. Sweet Jesus, why am I babbling? I meant that in all due reverence. I never take the Lord's name in vain. Oh, God, now I'm lying to a priest.

Blanche: You know, you take the religious aspect out of this and it's really quite romantic. A man giving up everything for the woman he loves. It's kind of like the story of the Duke and Duchess of Windsor.
Rose: Or the story of Rose and Charlie Nylund.
Dorothy: You know, when I think of one, I automatically think of the other.
Rose: When Charlie and I started dating, I got the feeling that his folks didn't like me. That's when I decided to get to the bottom of things and I found out about the ancient feud between the Nylunds and the Gorkleknabygens. That was my mother's maiden name.
Dorothy: Gorkleknabygen?
Rose: Originally, it was Gorkleknabygen-Höffstädlerfeil. But they shortened it. Because most of my mother's family were in show business. Anyway, when Charlie told them that we were gonna get married, they forbade it. They said they'd disown him if he married...
Dorothy: A Gorkleknabygen.
Rose: Right. And he'd lose his share of the family tile grout fortune. He didn't care. He told them he loved me more than grout.
Blanche: Must have been a tough choice for old Charlie.

Rose: So, did you decide what you're gonna do?
Dorothy: No. Oh, my luck. The first really wonderful guy I've met in a long time and he turns out to have a more serious involvement.
Rose: With whom?
Dorothy: Pam Dawber. The Church.

Rose: You will not believe what happened to to me. I'm driving home, down Barnsdale Avenue, listening to my yodelling tapes, when the driver behind me starts furiously honking his horn. I decide to be a lady and let him pass. And what does he do? Pulls alongside, shouts obscenities that would make Joan Rivers blush, then speeds off down the street.

Rose: I'm sorry, Sophia, I'm just so upset.
Sophia: You know, you would feel a lot better if you had shouted back at the bocciagaloop.
Rose: Oh, I couldn't do that. I get so flustered in those situations.
Sophia: Hey, a well-chosen gesture can be very effective. Something like this.
Rose: Sophia, isn't that obscene?
Sophia: No. They mean, "good health," "have a nice day" and "would you like to squeeze my concertina?"

Rose: But I don't understand. The table looked fine right where we always keep it.
Blanche: Honey, the table looked fine, but with her complexion, those yellow garden lights make Dorothy look like Eric Severeid.

Sophia: Look out, St Dominic's. Sophia Petrillo feels lucky tonight.
Rose: Oh, tonight's the big bingo game, isn't it?
Sophia: The biggest. I got my lucky handkerchief. I can't lose.
Rose: Where did you find it?
Sophia: In my bra.
Rose: In your bra? What was your lucky handkerchief doing in there?
Sophia: I was blowing my breasts, Rose. I stuffed it in to give me cleavage, to turn on the butcher so I could get a decent piece of veal. And now, if you'll excuse me, there's an electric weed whacker at St. Dominic's with my name on it.

Dorothy: How do I look?
Rose: Beautiful.
Blanche: Go back and change. Oh, honey, that might be alright for a gay funeral in New Orleans, but it's too- It's much too subtle for this evening. Dorothy, put on something flashy. Flashy. Something colorful.
Dorothy: That's really not me, Blanche.
Blanche: I know, honey, but take a chance. Be a woman.
Dorothy: It's an awful lot to ask, Blanche, but I'll try.