Dorothy: I'm scared. I don't know what to do.
Sophia: First of all, don't think your problem is so unique. People do crazy things for love all the time. Let me tell you a little story. Picture this: Sicily, August 1908. No, that's not it. But if you ever need a story about jealousy, this one is a pip.
Dorothy: Ma, just go to sleep.
Sophia: No, no. I remember. Havana, 1957. No, I was never in Havana.
Dorothy: Ma!
Sophia: I meant Brooklyn, 1958. No, that's not it. I don't believe it. I'm dry! I got nothing!

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?