Rose: Back in St. Olaf, when I couldn't sleep, I'd get into my pajamas and have a nice glass of warm milk and slip under the covers and count cows jumping over my bed. It'd usually work like a charm, except every once in a while there'd be a cow with a particularly low udder and it would brush across my forehead and wake me up.

Rose: Tell me about it, Sophia. Sometimes I can interpret dreams.
Sophia: Blanche sold the house and I wound up back at Shady Pines.
Rose: Hmm. This is a tough one.

Sophia: Look, you're all confused and upset about this house business. There's only one thing you can do.
Blanche: What is that, Sophia?
Sophia: Take the advice of a wise old Sicilian.
Rose: You, Sophia?
Sophia: No. Charlie Callas. Many years ago, my father had a similar problem when he was selling real estate.
Dorothy: I didn't know that Grandpa ever owned any real estate.
Sophia: He didn't. That was the problem. You see, it turned out he really didn't own the Vatican. Although he did have a very close friend who swore he was there the night Pop won the deed in a card game from Pope Ronnie the Magnificent.