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.

Sophia: Picture it: Sicily, 1852.
Dorothy: Ma, I am in no mood. And besides, you weren't alive in 1852.
Sophia: What? We can't learn from history? It was mid-century and a disillusioned Italy looked to the house of Savoy for leadership. Giuseppe Garibaldi, our courageous leader, and not a bad dresser, thought, "Let's regain some national pride and jump into this Crimean War thing." Of course, there was a big kickoff party at Giuseppe's beach house, and everyone came. Coincidentally, this was also the night his wife Rosa hit her sexual peak.
Dorothy: Ma, I am in here because of guilt.
Sophia: This is not a story about guilt. This is a story about being a bad hostess. While Rosa had Giuseppe in the bedroom with his saber around his ankles, were strip-searching mice for a piece of cheese.
Dorothy: Ma, so what's your point? That Rosa and I throw bad parties?
Sophia: That's my minor point. My major point is that, like Rosa, you're screwing around in the bedroom when there are important things to do outside.
Dorothy: I can't believe it. That makes sense. I mean, you went the long way around but that actually makes sense.