Dorothy: Oh, Blanche, you did a pretty good job focusing this for Rose. And for me. I have to admit, you would have made a very good psychologist.
Sophia: Great idea, Pussycat. Give Blanche an office with a couch and a license to charge by the hour.

Rose: But there are other considerations. What if I were wrong? The last time I had courage, I confronted Lukan Ulfnooner, St. Olaf's moodiest plastic surgeon.
Dorothy: Thank you very much, Rose. That was a great story.
Rose: Nice try, Dorothy. Anyway, Doctor Ulfnooner did some work on my mom. And do you know who she came out looking like? Raymond Massey.
Dorothy: Rose, that's terrible.
Rose: Well, that's what I thought when I accused him of malpractice and ruined his business. Unfortunately, little did I know...
Blanche: Know what, Rose?
Rose: That was the look she was going for.

Blanche: How could he do a thing like that?
Dorothy: Believe me, just because men in the medical profession wear white, does not mean that they're angels.
Blanche: He did something horrible and unethical, and he has to answer for it. We are gonna find out who the proper authorities are, and you're gonna lodge a formal complaint.
Rose: I wish men would have breasts just for one day. Then they'd know what it's like to be judged by some physical trait. I mean, just because I'm built like this, you wouldn't believe how many people think I'm dumb.
Sophia: Rose, you're too hard on yourself. I know people who think you're dumb over the phone.