Rose: Sophia, don't worry. You made the right decision. I was gonna give you this when you got to the hospital, but I'm too excited. Here's your St. Olaf fun pack.
Sophia: Thanks. All right, I'm going. Here, Dorothy, you throw this out. I'll push the car around the front.

Rose: OK, let's just fill out these forms. Your name?
Martin: Brother Martin.
Rose: Occupation?
Martin: I'm a monk.
Rose: Oh, good. I almost wrote down "Trekkie." What brings you to the hospital, Brother Martin?
Martin: Well, I don't enjoy talking about it, but I hurt my knee dancing in my room. Excuse me, but do I know you? You look awfully familiar.
Rose: I get that a lot. People say I look like Wilma Flintstone. Not when she was on the air. More the way she looks today.

Blanche: Oh, God.
Dorothy: What's wrong, Blanche?
Blanche: Oh, there's a very handsome doctor coming this way. Dorothy, listen, if he walks by, just pretend we're having a conversation and casually mention my unparalleled ability to satisfy a man.
Dorothy: What, you don't think he's read the men's room wall?

Rose: Oh, I'm sorry. I-I was distracted. You're not going to believe it. I just met my father, my natural father.
Blanche: He's alive?
Dorothy: He's in Miami?
Sophia: He's an earthling?

Dorothy: Oh, I am just so relieved that Ma came through that operation OK.
Blanche: Yeah, she's a tough old woman. Takes a lot more than someone like you to kill her.

Dorothy: Look, Rose, we don't necessarily get the parents we want. We get the ones we're dealt. You know, when I was a little kid, I got angry with my mother and father, and I imagined that I had different parents.
Blanche: Who? Who?
Dorothy: Well, it's really silly.
Blanche: Oh, come on, now. Who?
Rose: Tell us.
Dorothy: Well, my dad was Errol Flynn and my mother was Amelia Earhart. I wanted Dad all to myself.

Blanche: You know, Rose, I'm luckier than you 'cause I had a father, a wonderful father whom I loved dearly. But right now you have an opportunity I would give anything for. Just to have ten minutes more with Big Daddy. Oh, to hear that sweet old husky voice once more, "They're admittin' who to my country club?"
Rose: Aw, there's a difference, Blanche. That bigot was there for you.

Blanche: Dorothy. Wait up. Will you wait a minute? You just walk so fast.
Dorothy: I am in a hurry.
Blanche: It's not sexy. Well, it's not. A woman should take little delicate steps as if to say, "Yes, I may be slower than you, but maybe I'm worth waitin' for."

Blanche: Well, now, look, Dorothy, I'm scared, too. I'm terrified. Sophia's practically my mother, too. If we don't find her, I don't know how I'm gonna respond. But I'd like to think I'm not gonna be any less sexy.
Dorothy: You're just a great big pile of estrogen, aren't you?

Sophia: Where am I? I must be dead. Is this heaven? Sal? Is that you, Sal?
Man: Sorry, ma'am. Who's Sal?
Sophia: My husband. He's been waiting for me up here for a long time. Boy, you're pretty young. What brings a guy like you up here?
Man: A lunatic. I'm a police officer. See, I was working a political rally at the Civic Center when this madman pulls out a revolver and starts blasting away from the roof. I took a bullet pulling a baby carriage out of the line of fire. How 'bout you?
Sophia: Same.