Blanche: Rose, if I use this permit, any kind of scum could walk through the door. Thieves, murderers, men who haven't seen a woman for 10 years, who've been doin' nothin' but liftin' weights and countin' the days. Dorothy, remind me again why this was a bad idea.

Rose: You know, people in St. Olaf are lucky. We all had the same family tree. You can trace each of us back to the same brother and sister.
Dorothy: Well, I think that completes the puzzle.

Dorothy: Nice try, Ma. Let's talk about 1920.
Sophia: Bad year. Now, 1918...
Dorothy: I said 1920.
Sophia: Okay, 1920 it is. The year I sailed for America. Ah, America. The land of opportunity, where the streets were paved with gold, and a young man named Irving Berlin was writing songs like this. Hit it. Dorothy, where's our piano player?