Sophia: Dorothy, let me tell you a story. Picture it. Sicily, 1922. A young military officer stationed far from home. He wanders the streets seeking a friendly face and a glass of Chianti. Finally, he happens into a dusty little cafe where he finds both. The man laughs for the first time in months. And finds inspiration in a beautiful peasant girl, wise beyond her years. When the cafe is closed, she takes him home with her. Three glorious days, they make love and drink wine. He returns to his command prepared to lead his people through whatever battles need to be fought. Dorothy, that young peasant girl was me. And that young man was Winston Churchill.
Dorothy: Ma, you made that whole thing up. Now what is your point?
Sophia: That I made it up. It was a little lie that gave me a lot of pleasure. If Rose is happy, and there was no harm done, let her have that.

Sophia: Reminds me of the place I met Charles de Gaulle. We were lovers, you know.
Raymond: Really?
Dorothy: Ma, that's a lie.
Sophia: Who asked you?
Sophia: Picture it: Sicily, 1921. A beautiful young peasant girl saves her lira and takes a trip to Paris, the city of lights, also the only place a guy can wear a cape without getting a lot of funny looks. She wanders into a restaurant and ends up sharing a table with a dashing young Frenchman. They drink, they talk, they burn a cork and draw mustaches on each other.
Raymond: What?
Sophia: Just wanted to see if you were listening. Anyway, the next thing she knows, it's hours later, the place is empty, and the Frenchman's got his schnoz down her blouse. This begins a beautiful love affair. Kids, I was that peasant girl, and the schnoz was Charles the Mole.
Raymond: Charles the Mole?
Sophia: Yeah, Charles the Mole. He was the wheel man for Louie the Ice Pick.
Dorothy: Ma, you said Charles de Gaulle.
Sophia: Yeah, right! I slept with Charles de Gaulle. I could've been the first lady of France, but I married your father instead. A man who cleans his toenails with a shrimp fork.

Dorothy: I never had a mind for money matters. I always used to let Stanley handle all our investments.
Rose: Did he have a head for numbers, Stanley?
Dorothy: The man used to have to get naked to count to 21.

Dorothy: We have to consider this very carefully. We could be holding the man's fate in our hands.
Blanche: I once held a man's fate in my hands.
Sophia: I'm shocked.
Blanche: It was back in high school. I was dating the quarterback of the football team. All the major colleges were trying to recruit him. I was pretty sure he was leaning toward Notre Dame 'cause he asked me how to spell it. But secretly, I was hoping for Alabama. Going to Notre Dame would put such a wrench in our relationship, with all those priests skulking about the campus. Anyway, one night, he told me he'd finally made his decision. He was gonna enroll at the little junior college just 5 miles outside of town. When I said, "Honey, why? They don't even have a football team," he answered by slipping a ring on my finger and proposing marriage. well, I could not believe it. I sat there for almost half an hour just staring at that ring. Finally I said, "Honey, this will not do. I cannot accept this ring."
Rose: Because you loved him too much to stand in the way of his career.
Blanche: No, because it was a piece of cheap glass, and the band was turning my finger green.

Rose: I still feel uncomfortable about going through Pepe's things.
Blanche: Me, too. Although it was kind of exciting opening his closet and seeing his little boxing trunks hanging there with that provocative nickname on 'em.
Dorothy: Blanche, Everlast is a brand name, not a nickname.