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.

Dorothy: Ma, you're not going.
Sophia: Oh, yes I am. If anything goes wrong, you need someone with experience.
Blanche: Experience with what?
Sophia: With life. You're looking at a woman who lived through two world wars, 15 vendettas, four major operations and two Darrins on Bewitched.
Rose: Sophia, I don't think those are very good reasons to go.
Sophia: No? How about this one? I'm hungry. Let's roll, Danno.

Rose: Oh, I just love to welcome people to the neighborhood. In fact, back home, I used to run our town's Vilkomm Wagon. Oh, boy, was that fun! Whenever a new family would move in to St. Olaf, we'd all hop on the tractor and ride out to the new neighbors' farm, thirty or forty of us, carrying vats of smoked fish and big pitchers of freshly-squeezed potato juice. While Cousin Dat played "Getting To Know You" through the hole in his windpipe.
Dorothy: Tell me, did you ever accompany him through the hole in your head?

Sophia: What? They hate each other. They fight all the time.
Blanche: Very passionate fights. Why, it has all the signs of a classic love/hate relationship. And from the sparks of that conflict rise the flames of desire. Flames that ignite in an uncontrollable frenzy of lust, passion and ecstasy. [Blanche sprays herself down] I'm sorry. Where was I?