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.

Blanche: I used to attract men who were young and active and virile, but now they just want to date girls in their 20s and 30s. What's a great-looking gal in her 40s to do?
Dorothy: Perhaps we should find one and ask her.

Rose: Dorothy, in times like these, you have to hold onto your faith, just like Hans Gluckenflunken, St. Olaf's greatest explorer.
Dorothy: Rose, please, let me have a little recovery time before you start a St. Olaf story.
Rose: You see, Hans Gluckenflunken set out for Florida to find the Fountain of Intelligence. Unfortunately, when he got to Duluth, he took a left instead of a right and he wound up back in St. Olaf. That's how he got his nickname, Wrong Way Gluckenflunken.
Dorothy: Rose, how is this a story about faith?
Rose: Well, when he got back, it was the dead of winter. Tired and hungry, but still clinging to his belief that he would find the Fountain of Intelligence, he saw the miracle water trickling out of the ground, and he fell to his knees and tasted it. Unfortunately, it was a broken sewer main. Two days later, he died of cholera.
Dorothy: What is the point, Rose?
Rose: He was positive he had found the Fountain of Intelligence. In fact, his dying words were, "I think I've learned something from this."

Blanche: Oh, Dorothy, you always give me the best advice about men. Who says wisdom comes from experience?