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 am so excited. I can't believe I'm going to see Trudy again after all these years.
Rose: Oh, I'm excited for you, too, Dorothy. That's why I want everything perfect. I'm making Scandinavia's oldest and most traditional appetizer treat: cheese and crackers.
Blanche: Cheese and crackers, Rose? Not eggs gafloofen? Ham and gunterhoggins? Pigs in a svenkabluden?
Rose: No, but you sure know how to make a girl's mouth water.

Blanche: Anyway, I was about eight years old when I first met Cathy Lee on the playground. We became fast friends, just as thick as Louisiana blackstrap molasses on a stake of johnnycakes as high as an elephant's knee...
Dorothy: On a riverboat floating down the Mississippi delta. Finish the damn story, Blanche!
Blanche: Anyway, it was at our Southern seafood fry that I proudly dragged Cathy Lee over to meet my folks. Well, my mama took one look at Cathy Lee and forbad me ever to see her again.
Rose: Why?
Blanche: Because her mother was not in the Daughters of the Confederacy. Oh! How my heart went out to little Cathy Lee, standing there while our servants snickered at her servants. But Mama insisted I break off the friendship, or I wouldn't get brand-new riding boots for Christmas. So I did.
Dorothy: Blanche, why is this a story about acceptance?
Blanche: Oh, because years later, to get back at me, Cathy Lee slept with my daddy. That was something I had to accept. Mama accepted it, too. Along with a brand-new Cadillac Eldorado for her birthday. You know, my family had a few dollars, and I loved them dearly, but when you get right down to it, basically, they were trash.

Dorothy: Oh, I just have to catch my breath.
Trudy: Are we gonna play, or do you wanna forfeit?
Dorothy: No way. No, Dorothy Zbornak doesn't know the meaning of the word "forfeit."
Rose: And she's a teacher, too. No wonder the Japanese are ahead of us.