Blanche: Dorothy, can I ask you a question? What do you think I oughta do with my bed?
Dorothy: Put it in the Smithsonian, Blanche. It has more miles on it than the Spirit of St. Louis.

Rose: I'm nuts about that guy.
Dorothy: You'd have to be.
Rose: But, you know, it's so strange. You have no idea what it's like dating a superhero.
Dorothy: Sure I can. Why, my Stan and Superman had a lot in common. They were both faster than a speeding bullet.

Blanche: Oh, I am exhausted. I have spent this entire day bed-shopping.
Sophia: Have you no shame?
Blanche: Bed-hopping nowadays is sexually irresponsible.
Dorothy: Not bed-hopping, Ma. Bed-shopping.
Sophia: Yeah, right. Nice cover.
Blanche: It's true. I need a new bed. My old one is falling apart. [Dorothy puts a cookie in Sophia's mouth] The prices are outrageous. The bed I wanted cost more than the original down payment on my first house.
Sophia: In Sicily, beds were dirt-cheap. Of course it was because you slept on dirt. Just an observation. If my name were Mark Twain, you'd be writing this stuff down.

Blanche: I haven't had a decent night's sleep in weeks. Every time I climb into bed, I feel guilty.
Sophia: Take down the video equipment.
Blanche: I'm talking about the brass bed. I shouldn't have kept it. Rose was right. It's like stealing.
Sophia: Then call the store and return it.
Blanche: Oh, I've had it over three weeks. They won't take it back.
Sophia: How much wear can you give a bed in just three weeks? ... I see your point.

Rose: That's his costume. Don't tell me you've never heard of Mister Terrific. Mister Terrific's Clubhouse? Every weekday afternoon, one full hour on Saturdays?
Sophia: You don't mean that clown with the kiddie show?
Rose: No, he's not a clown. He's a superhero. You're thinking of Bozo.
Sophia: I'm talking to Bozo.

Rose: How do I look?
Sophia: Not bad. You got another date with Captain Marvelous?
Rose: Mister Terrific. I can see you didn't read many comic books when you were a child.
Sophia: Hey, we had comic books in Sicily. My favorite was Benito the Hood. He lived in the forest with his band of merry thugs. Benito was very popular.
Rose: You mean because he stole from the rich and gave to the poor?
Sophia: I said Benito the Hood, not Benito the Idiot. He stole from everyone and kept it for himself. Didn't even share it with his band of merry thugs. He was the idol of many a Sicilian youngster.

Blanche: That's what they did all right. Delivered the wrong bed.
Rose: You don't like this one?
Blanche: Oh, I think it's the most stunning thing I've ever seen. I absolutely love it, but I can't afford it. Why, that bed back there must cost... exactly what I paid for the one I ordered. They made a mistake. They charged me for the inexpensive bed.
Sophia: Merry Christmas from Neiman-Marcus.
Rose: Sophia, she can't keep that bed. That'd be like stealing.
Blanche: It's only stealing if they find out. The bed's in my bedroom. Who's gonna know?
Sophia: Everyone who knows the bunt sign on the New York Yankees.

Sophia: I hope you recommended he do some exercise. A man shouldn't be allowed to wear tights unless he's got a butt like Baryshnikov.

Dorothy: Hi, Ma.
Sophia: How'd the interview go?
Dorothy: Terrific. I have my choice of summer jobs. Three interviews this week, three offers.
Sophia: That's because you're showing more leg like I told you.
Dorothy: I don't think the woman at the agency was interested in my legs.
Sophia: Grow up. Don't you watch TV? Eighty percent of the women in prime time are switch-hitters.
Dorothy: Ma, TV soap operas aren't real life.
Sophia: I'm not talking characters. I'm talking actresses. Pick up an Enquirer sometime. You'll learn something.

Rose: Girls, you won't believe what happened to me this afternoon. I met Mister Terrific!
Blanche: Rose, don't be so quick to judge. I once thought I had met Mr. Terrific. Turned out there was also a Mrs.
Terrific. I found myself ducking a Mr. Vase.