Rose: Hello, I'm Rose Nylund.
Lucille: I'll save you some time. I don't wear Avon, I have a mop, and I'm still paying for an encyclopedia that my son used just once to look up Sexual Genitalia, Female.
Rose: Mrs. Beatty, it's not that. It's about your husband.
Lucille: He dumped you? You've been dating him and he dumped you, and now you're getting even by telling me.
Rose: No, that's not-
Lucille: I've heard this before, I can't tell you how many times.
Rose: You have?
Lucille: You think you're the first? Please. The first time Al slept with someone else was on our honeymoon.
Rose: No!
Lucille: In Paris, the chambermaid. He always had the sign on the door, "Maid Service Requested." He slept with everyone, secretaries, schoolteachers, babysitters, neighbors, friends. One Easter, we gave our little boy some rabbits. They used to look at Al in amazement.

Lucille: I just had to come by. You were so caring to come tell me in person what happened, that I had to do something for you.
Rose: Oh, that wasn't necessary.
Lucille: Well, I know you blame yourself for Al's death. Well, I just got the autopsy results, and they showed that Al's arteries were completely clogged. Oh, his diet was terrible. He never ate a vegetable. He lived on fatty foods. He'd have meat for dessert. You didn't kill him, Mrs. Nylund. He killed himself.
Rose: He committed suicide?
Lucille: In a manner of speaking. He'd have died whether he'd been here or not.
Rose: I'm so glad. Not that he's dead.
Lucille: I know. I just had to tell you you had nothing to do with it.
Rose: Thank you.
Lucille: And if he had to die, I'm glad he didn't die alone on the street, but here, with a caring person, doing what he liked to do best.

Dorothy: This is ridiculous! I mean, here we sit, calmly eating our bran flakes, when there could be a dead man in the house. I'll go.
Rose: She's very brave.
Blanche: Boy, I'll say.
Dorothy: [returning] I want someone to come with me.
Sophia: I'll go, I'll go. I'm from Sicily. What's the big deal?

Sophia: He bought the farm.
Rose: What farm?
Dorothy: Rose, he's dead.
Rose: No.
Dorothy: Yes.
Rose: Oh, my God. The poor man. And with a new farm and everything.

Dorothy: Honey, I'm sorry.
Rose: When did he die?
Dorothy: I wasn't there, Rose. You were.
Rose: You mean, I slept with a dead man last night?
Blanche: Honey, I sleep with them all the time.

Dorothy: Now, look, Rose. You're gonna have to go tell her. I mean, she's probably worried sick already.
Rose: But I've never done anything like this. Tell a woman her husband's been seeing me?
Blanche: Mm-hmm, and she'll say, "Why, that dirty rat. I will kill him." And you say, "Good news, darling. You don't have to. He's dead."

Dorothy: I wonder where she is. She's almost two hours late.
Blanche: Oh, they probably hit traffic. I bet she slept with him.
Dorothy: I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't.
Blanche: Well, I sure couldn't be with a man I liked and abstain.
Dorothy: You know, I abstained after Stan and I split up but it wasn't a very different experience from when Stan and I were together.

Dorothy: Oh, I'm sure he's not dead. Rose, go look.
Rose: Come on, he's sleeping. I don't want to wake him.
Sophia: You could light firecrackers in his nostrils. You won't wake him.

Blanche: When you're making love, you don't make noise?
Dorothy: No.
Blanche: How can you not?
Dorothy: Well, I guess I always felt it wasn't very ladylike.
Rose: We should go, girls.
Blanche: Hold your bladder, Rose. Not a sound?
Dorothy: Well, it never seemed to warrant one.
Blanche: Well, do you talk?
Dorothy: I've always wanted to, but at that point, it seems that nobody is ever interested in conversation.
Blanche: Not conversation! I mean dirty talk.

Sophia: There's a man in your bed.
Rose: Oh, Sophia, there's not.
Blanche: Why, you devil, you.
Dorothy: So that was what we heard, Rose!
Blanche: Rose got lucky.
Sophia: Not so lucky. The man in your bed is dead.
Rose: What?
Sophia: Dead.
Rose: Oh, Sophia. He's not dead. I was just in there.
Sophia: So was I. I went to put back your laundry. I see there's a man in the bed, so I introduce myself, but he doesn't answer. He's dead.
Rose: He-He's shy. He's very shy.
Blanche: Didn't sound so shy last night.
Sophia: OK, fine, let a dead guy lie there. It's gonna be 98 degrees today. It won't be pretty.