Sophia: Picture it. Sicily, 1912. A beautiful, young peasant girl with clear, olive skin meets an exciting but penniless Spanish artist. There's an instant attraction. They laugh, they sing. They slam down a few boilermakers. Shortly afterwards, he's arrested for showing her how he can hold his palette without using his hands. But I digress. He paints her portrait and they make passionate love. She spends much of the next day in the shower with a loofah sponge, scrubbing his fingerprints off her body. She sees the portrait and is insulted. It looks nothing like her. And she storms out of his life forever. That peasant girl was me and that painter was Pablo Picasso.
Dorothy: Ma, I have a feeling you're lying.
Rose: Be positive, Dorothy.
Dorothy: OK, I'm positive you're lying.

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."