Dorothy: Oh, you couldn't sleep either, huh?
Blanche: No, I guess it's the knife in my back.
Dorothy: Come again?
Blanche: I wasn't going to say anything about this, Dorothy, but I won't be able to sleep until I do. I feel that you have backed me into a corner. And when I am backed into a corner, I come out fighting like a wild cat. Unless I've had too much to drink, in which case I slide down the wall and make mad, passionate love on the carpet.

Rose: [as dog] Bye, Auntie Blanche. Bye, Auntie Sophia.
Sophia: I don't know how she gets away with it. If she was my age she'd be locked up at Shady Pines making boats out of popsicle sticks.

Rose: I know I promised to take him back to the pound yesterday, but he wasn't feeling well. Frankly, Dorothy, I'm a little worried.
Sophia: Don't be, it was a hangover.
Rose: What?
Sophia: A hangover from the sherry.
Dorothy: Ma, you gave the dog sherry? That's terrible.
Sophia: I was having a few sips while I was rinsing out my underwear. It's a little thing I do Mondays and Thursdays only. Anyway, the dog walks in, looks up at me, and I swear it's your Uncle Aldo's face begging me for a drink. So I give the mutt a swallow, but he doesn't know when to stop, also like your Uncle Aldo. So we sing a little Puccini, stretch out on the couch and take a nap together. All in all, a pleasant afternoon.

Blanche: Well, as long as you're here, would you like a tour?
Sophia: No thanks. If I want to look at pictures, I go to FotoMatt. Besides, Rose brought me. She's waiting outside with the dog. Hey, you ever stick your head out of a car window doing 50? What a rush!

Dorothy: Blanche, what the hell are you talking about?
Blanche: You stole the closing banquet of the only art show I've ever put together.
Dorothy: I did not steal your banquet. Mr. Allen assigned it to me.
Blanche: And why? Why should he give it to you and not to me? I'm the one who's been working there for five years. I'm the one who's been wearing low-cut blouses and picking up pencils off the floor. I'm the one he always gropes at the Christmas party.
Dorothy: And they picked Sandra Day O'Connor over you?

Dorothy: Honey, are you sure you're going to be able to pretend to be surprised at that banquet?
Blanche: Oh, of course. I've pretended to be a virgin half a dozen times.

Mr. Allen: Hello. And who do we have here?
Dorothy: This is my mother Sophia Petrillo. Ma, this is my boss Mr. Allen.
Mr. Allen: Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Petrillo. What brings you to our humble home?
Sophia: Is he gay?
Dorothy: Come on, honey, I'll walk you to the car.
Mr. Allen: Goodbye, Mrs. Petrillo. Sorry you didn't have an opportunity to experience our museum. I'd love for you to see my most prized acquisition, a magnificent pair of Gauguins.
Sophia: What are you, a pervert? I was married for forty-five years, I never even saw my husband's Gauguins!

Blanche: How come you're dressed so early?
Dorothy: Oh, I told Mr. Allen I'd come in early today so I could get the press list information ready before lunch.
Blanche: Dorothy, you're such a treasure. I hope that man appreciates you. Why, you've only been there for a week and you already know almost as much about running a museum as I do.
Sophia: It's a museum. What's to know? You bang in a nail, you hang a picture. Any idiot could do that.
Dorothy: Stop bragging, Ma. You're only saying that cos I'm your daughter.

Blanche: Oh, Dorothy, it's just so unfair. They shouldn't be able to do this to a fine teacher like you.
Dorothy: Oh, it's part of the experimental year-round school system. Every teacher is required to take a ten-week leave and my ten weeks are now.
Sophia: This wouldn't have happened if you'd taken the job I wanted you to take.
Dorothy: Ma, you wanted me to be a nun.
Sophia: Right. It's steady work, they supply the uniform and you're married to God. At least he's home every night.

Blanche: Oh, well, look at the cute little puppy dog. Hello there, honey. He likes me. He must be a male.
Rose: Then you don't mind if he stays till I find his owner?
Blanche: Mind? Mind? Of course I mind. You can't keep that filthy beast in my house.
Rose: Well, I thought you said he was cute.
Blanche: Well, he is, but a dog belongs outdoors in his natural habitat where he's free to roam and lick himself in the privacy of his own doghouse.