Rose: Don't you care that they're fighting?
Sophia: Of course I do. You think I have no feelings? Let me tell you a story. Picture this. A crowded Mediterranean port, teeming with your tired, your poor, your hungry. You know, your huddled masses yearning to be free. We boarded the ship and set sail for America. Five hundred people filled with hope, singing, laughing, drinking. Actually, only the Irish were drinking. But I digress. Of course, on the second day, things took a turn for the worse. For the next month and a half, the storm-tossed seas made our lives a living hell. If I wasn't fighting for a blanket, I was fighting for food. If I wasn't fighting for food, I was fighting for shuffleboard equipment. I just threw that in to see if you were paying attention. Anyway, the storm broke, and through the mist I saw the beautiful lady I'd been longing to see for months.
Rose: The Statue of Liberty.
Sophia: No, my mother. That's how dense the fog was. But beyond her was the Statue of Liberty. I remember the first words I shouted out,"There she is, Lady Liberty." I also remember the second words I shouted out, "Slow down, you yutz, you're going right past her." But he didn't hear. And that's why today, Rose, there's an unusually large Italian population in Spilsbury, Massachusetts.
Rose: That's a really moving story, Sophia, but what exactly is the point?
Sophia: The point is, you already forgot lessons one and three. Quit being an idiot. I stole 40 bucks while you were listening to that cockamamie story.

Dorothy: And I was feeling jealous and Ionely and... God knows what else.
Blanche: Magenta.
Dorothy: Excuse me?
Blanche: Magenta. That's what I call it when I get that way. All kinds of feelings tumbling all over themselves. Well, you know, you're not quite blue because you're not really sad and although you're a little jealous, you wouldn't say you're green with envy, and every now and then you realize you're kinda scared but you'd hardly call yourself yellow. I hate that feeling. I just hate it. And I hate the color magenta. That's why I named it that. Magenta. No way to really explain it but, fortunately, between friends, you don't have to.

Dorothy: I won't be seeing Geoffrey anymore. He's leaving town.
Rose: I knew it. The minute I heard you were dating a sailor, I said to myself there'll be nothing but heartaches.
Those swabbies drift into port, park their diddies on your doorstep, show you some tricks they learnt in the Orient and then it's, "Avast, me hearties," and they shove off with a serpent tattoo and your heart as souvenirs.
Dorothy: You've been reading Treasure Island again, Rose.
Rose: I know this from my ancestors. The Vikings were a seafaring people, you know.
Dorothy: They also wore horns on their head and metal brassieres.