Rose: As long as we're resting, we might as well take measurements.
Blanche: Okay, do me first. One thing I know for sure, I have not lost my hourglass figure.
Dorothy: But it looks like somebody poured about 90 minutes of extra sand in the glass.
Blanche: You're just jealous, Dorothy. You know it, I know it, Rose knows it.
Rose: It's neat the way the tape's a different color at this end. I haven't had this much off the spool since I measured the couch for slipcovers.

Blanche: Are Michael and Lorraine here yet?
Dorothy: No, but they should be any minute.
Blanche: You seem a little nervous.
Dorothy: Oh, I am.
Rose: Are you nervous 'cause you haven't met Michael's fiancée?
Dorothy: No, Rose. I'm nervous because if Sonny Bono gets elected mayor of Palm Springs, he's gonna make all the postmen wear leather bell-bottoms and a fur vest.

Lorraine: Oh, I'm sorry. Am I interrupting?
Blanche: Not at all. Rose and I were just about to go and see if we can fit into our bathing suits yet.
Rose: Blanche says we might have better luck if we sprayed our fannies with Pam.

Lorraine: I'd forgotten how cool it gets here this time of year.
Dorothy: No, you picked the right time to visit. Another month it would be very humid.
Lorraine: You don't know humid until you've been in St. Louis in mid-August.
Dorothy: I hear it gets very, very humid there. Especially in mid-August.
Lorraine: It's incredibly humid. It's hot, sticky.
Dorothy: Why the hell are you marrying my son?
Lorraine: I'm glad one of us finally brought that up. Dorothy, I don't blame you for having your doubts.
Dorothy: I have more than doubts. I look at the two of you, I see so many differences. He is 23. You are 44. He's white. You're black. He is 23. You are 44.
Lorraine: You said that already.
Dorothy: I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I just can't seem to get past that one.

Lorraine: Look, Dorothy, let me tell you something about myself. When I was 18, I was married to the boy next door. All my family and friends, they thought we were the perfect couple. Well, we stayed married for 20 years, but I don't think we were ever in love. It just seemed as though we should be. And I learned something from that. It doesn't matter what anybody thinks. It's how you feel about each other. Am I making any sense?
Dorothy: You're making a lot of sense. I was married to a boy next door once myself.
Lorraine: We have your blessing?
Dorothy: I'd like to say yes, but I can't. Everything you've said is logical. But I'm a mother, and a mother doesn't have to be logical. I'm awfully sorry. I just don't approve.
Lorraine: I'm sorry you feel that way.

Greta: Hello. We're a little early. I'm Greta Wagner, and these are my sisters, Trudy and Libby.
Dorothy: I'm so sorry. The house is such a mess.
Greta: Why, it's neater than our maid ever gets ours. I'd hire you anytime.

Lorraine: Have you met Dorothy?
Dorothy: Actually, they haven't.
Greta: And you must be Michael's parents.
Lorraine: Mama, put your glasses on. Oh, my Lord.
Rose: This is mud on our faces. We're not really black.

Greta: This is Michael?
Lorraine: Yes.
Greta: Uh-huh.
Lorraine: Come on, Mama, we talked about this. I told you he was younger.
Greta: Yes, but you sure didn't tell me he was white. No daughter of mine is marrying some skinny white boy.

Dorothy: Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Just who are you calling a skinny white boy?
Rose: I think she meant Michael.
Greta: You got that right.
Rose: Oh, it was easy.
Dorothy: Oh, shut up, Rose.

Lorraine: Mama, I love Michael. I don't care about his color.
Greta: Honey, it's just a phase. Ever since Diana Ross started marrying white men, everyone's got to have one.