Dorothy: Look, race is not even an issue. Your daughter is twice my son's age. What can a women in her 40s possibly have in common with a boy in his 20s?
Blanche: Sex. At 20, a man is at his peak, and a woman in her 40s is also at her peak. So when the two come together, hot damn!

Blanche: Dorothy, just a word of caution. I almost lost my Becky when I stuck my nose into her business. Now, believe me, it is not worth it.
Rose: Blanche is right. The same thing happened to the Vikbotters back in St. Olaf. You see, Gretchen had this thing for Buddy, but Mr. Vikbotter didn't approve. He did his best to keep them apart. But one day he came home early and he found Gretchen and Buddy in... How will I say it? A most indelicate situation.
Dorothy: What did he do?
Rose: Well, he yelled at them to stop, but they wouldn't, so he turned the hose on them.
Blanche: He turned the hose on them?
Rose: Well, they were in the front yard.
Blanche: Oh!
Dorothy: Wait. Wait. Wait a minute, Rose. Buddy and Gretchen weren't people, were they?
Rose: Of course not. They were dogs. Gretchen was a Dalmatian, and Buddy was a schnauzer. And Mr. Vikbotter wasn't too happy when he ended up with a litter of schnalmations.
Blanche: You know, Rose, sometimes I wish somebody had turned the hose on your parents.

Sophia: What's all the racket? Oh, Martha and the Vandellas are back.
Dorothy: Ma!
Greta: It's all right, Dorothy. I've got one at home just like her.
Dorothy: You have one at home, too?
Sophia: One at home? What am I, a cocker spaniel? Why don't you just give me an old sock to chew on?

Sophia: You know, I'm glad you showed up. There's something important we didn't discuss this afternoon, and I'd like to get that cleared up before we talk about anything else.
Greta: What is it?
Sophia: Is it true what they say about black men in bed?
Blanche: Oh, yes, definitely. ... Oh, yes, definitely that is something I would like to know about, too.
Dorothy: Blanche, please, that's a stereotype.
Trudy: Call it whatever you want. I'm just grateful it's true.

Greta: Lorraine, if you want a young man, fine. Just make it a young black man. Why, I could name ten fine, rich, young black men off the top of my head.
Blanche: Wait just a minute till I get a pencil.

Dorothy: Terrific idea. I can't wait to meet her.
Michael: Before you do, Ma, there is something about her you should know. Lorraine is... kind of black.
Dorothy: Kind of black. What does that mean, kind of black? I mean, that's, uh- That's like being kind of Spanish. You know, either you are or you aren't.
Michael: She is.
Dorothy: Oh, God.
Rose: Emilio Estevez is kind of Spanish, Dorothy.
Dorothy: Thank you, Rose.

Sophia: There's my ride. I'm off to Epcot.
Dorothy: Wait a minute. Ma, where's your overnight bag?
Sophia: Who needs a bag? We get on the bus, we play cards till we get there, we sleep in a motel, we turn around and come back.
Rose: You go all the way to Epcot and you never look at the exhibits?
Sophia: Please. I'm 82 years old. I'm interested in technology in the year 2000? Hasta luego.

Rose: Can I ask a dumb question?
Dorothy: Better than anyone I know.
Rose: What color is black people's dandruff?
Dorothy: Rose, black people don't have dandruff. God figures they've been through enough already.

Dorothy: Look, Mrs. Wagner, I'm not thrilled about my son marrying your daughter either.
Greta: Oh, yeah? Why? You got something against black people?
Blanche: Of course not, and I resent the insinuation. Why, we firmly believe that all men are created equal.
Rose: That's a bunch of baloney.
Dorothy: Rose.
Rose: Well, if you don't believe me, just turn on your television and watch a white person dance down the line on Soul Train.

Michael: I just can't believe you feel this way. You know, Lorraine's mother is not the least bit concerned about our age difference.
Dorothy: She's entitled to her opinion.
Michael: You know, you are being very small-minded.
Dorothy: You know, a wise philosopher once said, "There are no small minds, just big heads."
Michael: What the hell does that mean?
Dorothy: I'm not sure. Come to think of it, it wasn't a philosopher. It was Rose.