Rose: Well, is everybody ready for a spirited game of Googenspritzer?
Blanche: Googenspritzer? You said we were gonna play Monopoly.
Rose: I said it was like Monopoly, only instead of Atlantic City, they use St. Olaf geography.
Blanche: Well, I'll be the bank.
Rose: Oh, good. There's the cashbox.
Blanche: Well, honey, this is empty.
Rose: Oh, I know. The St. Olaf Bank was one of the first savings and loans to go under.
Dorothy: Bad management?
Rose: Bad contractor. They built the bank on marshland, and it sank. All that was left were a few deposit slips and a pen with a chain attached to it, floating in the muck.

Blanche: Well, Rose, I might not have any idea what it's like to feel the kind of dependency you do, but there was a time in my life when I tried quittin' something.
Dorothy: Blanche, you don't mean?
Blanche: Sex, Dorothy. I tried quittin' sex.
Dorothy: Obviously you fell off the wagon.
Sophia: And onto a naval base.

Sophia: Mmm that's a mighty... That's a mighty lousy pizza!
Dorothy: Ma, you never tasted it before?
Sophia: No, and I never will again.
Sy: What the hell are you doing?
Sophia: Sorry, Sy. You can't pay me enough to endorse that slime on a shingle.
Dorothy: Ma, this is a nationwide commercial. There is a lot of money involved here.
Sophia: Sorry, Dorothy. There are two things a Sicilian won't do: lie about pizza and file a tax return.

Dorothy: Where are you going to shoot this commercial?
Sophia: Well, we discussed many exotic locations, and we settled on right here.
Blanche: Oh, now hold on. I don't want a TV crew coming in here, messing up my kitchen, setting up all that video equipment.
Rose: Well, how about shooting it in your bedroom, Blanche? The equipment's already set up there.

Dorothy: Rose, what are those pills for?
Rose: The doctor prescribed them when I wrenched my back.
Blanche: I didn't know you'd hurt your back.
Rose: Oh, it's an old farm injury from St. Olaf. I'll never forget when it happened. It was time to plant the crops, but after 17 years of pulling the plow, poor old Bessie was worn out.
Dorothy: Why didn't you just get another mule?
Rose: Bessie wasn't a mule. She was a big fat lady who pulled farm plows for a living.
Blanche: For God's sake! What about tractors?
Rose: Well, come on, Blanche. If she was too old to pull a plow, how could she ever pull a tractor?

Sophia: I'm just glad you got that monkey off your back.
Rose: I never had a monkey on my back, Sophia. Although, when I was a child, I had a chicken named Gordon. Oh, and what a great chicken! And he was a great singer, too. Gordon could cluck the scores of all the big Broadway musicals. I've heard a lot of poultry do show tunes, but nobody could hold a candle to him. Of course, no chicken likes to be that near an open flame.
Blanche: Same old Rose.
Dorothy: Same old Rose.
Rose: Oh, anyway, he was a great entertainer. We thought for a while he was a great dancer, too, till we discovered he had two left wings. He'd just shuffle along there. Oh, how he loved music, especially Gilbert and Sullivan.

Blanche: It was just after I'd lost George, and it just seemed an appropriate thing to do.
Dorothy: Of course it did. Your husband had just died.
Blanche: So what? I hadn't. The point is, I was still feeling a little vulnerable, and I was afraid if I got intimate with somebody too quickly, I might end up getting hurt, so I just gave it up, cold turkey.
Rose: And it worked for you, Blanche?
Blanche: Well, not entirely. Barely a month had gone by before I started feeling those awful stirrings and urgings. I was like a spring-bloomin' peach bud just ripened to dewy fruition, waitin' to be plucked by the first handsome man to come my way.
Dorothy: You were looking for some nooky.
Blanche: Exactly. Then came the moment of truth. There was a man, he asked me to sleep with him. I said no. But I knew something greater than my will power was necessary for me to resist him, so I called my sister.
Rose: Did she talk you through it?
Blanche: Oh, better than that. She drove straight over, took him by the throat, she said if he ever tried that again, she'd shoot him through the head.
Dorothy: Just because he made a pass at you?
Blanche: Oh, did I forget to mention that the man was my sister's husband?

Dorothy: I can't understand how you could forget to tell Rose about that accident.
Sophia: Forgive me, my memory's not as good as it used to be. Nothing on me is as good as it used to be. Once upon a time, I had a butt you could bounce a quarter on. Now you could lose a Krugerrand in the creases.

Dorothy: Ma, what are you doing out? I thought you were in your room.
Sophia: I whittled a gun out of a bar of soap and overpowered the guards.

Blanche: Dorothy, I didn't know you were good at making malts.
Dorothy: Good? I'm an expert. Didn't I tell you I used to work in a malt shop when I was in high school?
Blanche: Soda jerk?
Rose: No, thanks. I'll have a malted.