Dorothy: What would you say about me?
Blanche: Dorothy, come on.
Dorothy: I told you, you can tell me. All right.
Blanche: Well, I would say I always felt safe having you in the house. And I would say I always enjoyed talking to you when I'd come home from one of my numerous dates. And I would say I always looked up to you like an older sister.
Dorothy: Thank you, Blanche. Oh, and I forgot one thing. I would also say you're fat.

Dorothy: Hi, Ma. Hey, what is that smell?
Sophia: It's the sweet smell of success. It's my new entry in the cooking contest. Veal parmesan, my luckiest dish. It saved my marriage once.
Dorothy: Ma, you gonna tell a story?
Sophia: Please, does Heifetz rosin a bow? This is a tearjerker. Picture this. New York City, 1931. The Depression. Your father and I are newlyweds. One rainy night, we have our first fight. He says he's leaving, I say fine. He goes out the door, I start to cook. A few hours later, he comes back. He says he couldn't find a cab. We eat in silence. Halfway through, I look up. He's got tears in his eyes. He tells me, "This meal is like our marriage." The veal is like him, tough and stubborn. The tomato sauce is like me, hot and spicy. And the mozzarella is like our love: It stretches but it never breaks.
Dorothy: Ma, that's lovely, but I don't see what luck had to do with it.
Sophia: You were conceived that night, Dorothy.
Dorothy: Ma.
Sophia: What's lucky is your father never knew or he never would have eaten my veal again.

Blanche: I'm not afraid of anything now. But I sure used to be. Not a phobia, exactly, but something just as bad. A recurring dream. Night after night, I had this awful dream that I was trapped in an enclosed space full of men.
Dorothy: Now what could that mean? Let's give this a second.
Blanche: Now, wait a minute. There's more to it. All the men were bald. Just me and a bunch of bald men. Oh, and I kept hearing the voice of God. Anyway, one day I just finally said to myself: "Blanche, you are bigger than this. You don't have to succumb to any dream. Unless it involves meeting Mel Gibson at an oyster bar." And just like that it stopped. Mind over matter, you can do the same thing, Rose.