Blanche: I wish Mr. Fix-It would come back and finish working on that dishwasher. The dishes are piling up like crazy.
Dorothy: Well, you know, Blanche, we could wash them. I mean, before dishwashers, people didn't just eat and wipe the dishes on their pants.
Rose: I used to love washing dishes. In Minnesota, the whole family would get together and wash dishes. Even Uncle Gustaf, after the giant Swiss army knife accident, learned to dry dishes with his feet. We used to laugh and carry on and have such a happy time.

Blanche: I knew you shouldn't have gone to Columbia University. It's in New York City, for heaven's sake. A subway runs right through it. You want to go to college where there are green lawns and willow trees and young men in chinos and ties. And professors with just a touch of gray at the temple. Wise, learned men who look up your skirt if you're sitting in the first row. Meetings with them so they can explain Plato. And they lean over your books with you and you can smell their pipe tobacco and their maleness. Then their arm accidentally brushes against your bosoms and the room is filled with the heat of a taboo lust.

Sophia: In Sicily, we had a guy with a multiple personality. Only, they didn't get along. And one personality put out a contract on the other. You should have seen it, he had a shoot-out with himself in the piazza. He winged a priest, a waiter and shot down the Cinzano sign. Fortunately, he was able to beat himself senseless before anyone else got hurt.