Blanche: Believe me, Dorothy, I know what you're going through. I once had a relationship with a man I couldn't get rid of. Every time I turned around, there he was, pathetically underfoot. Long after I outgrew my need for him, he was there with flowers and candy, perfume. I couldn't move without him following me like a puppy dog.
Rose: How'd you finally get rid of him?
Blanche: Monday came, and we both had to go back to work.

Dorothy: Rose, I am not going. It is degrading.
Blanche: Dorothy, come on now. Don't be a stick-in-the-mud. It's for the Children's Hospital. I mean, if you can't degrade yourself for a bunch of sick kids, who can you degrade yourself for?

Blanche: Now, you can't tell us that a part of you isn't at least a little excited. Remember last year's auction? That rush of euphoria when the auctioneer calls out "Sold!" and you fall into the arms of your valiant Galahad?
Dorothy: My Galahad was a balloon salesman named Sid.
Blanche: Well, hey, who knew that sawed-off little gnome would outbid a Navy admiral? And a fire chief. And that jeweler who was a dead ringer for Mr. Richard Widmark.
Dorothy: Blanche, that was a year ago. How do you remember all this?
Blanche: I tagged 'em for migratory purposes.