Sophia: I don't see Blanche.
Rose: Oh, she said she'd be over right after her hair appointment. She wanted to look her best for Charmaine's big day.
Dorothy: Well, Blanche is handling this a lot better than I would. I would kill Gloria if she ever wrote about my sexual escapades.
Sophia: You'd kill your sister over a pamphlet?

Magda: Ladies, ladies, I have very bad news. I must shorten my stay, Dorothy. In fact, I'm leaving tomorrow.
Sophia: Dorothy, move the coffee table. I wanna do a cartwheel.

Rose: There was a time in my life when I wanted to leave St. Olaf. I just didn't feel it was big enough for me. I had my eye on the Great White Way. So I went to St. Gustav, the city that never naps. That first night I walked around in amazement. They had their own Fotomat! Of course, it wasn't as large as the Fotomats you see today. Now, here's the scary part. Suddenly, I realized I was this frightened little girl alone in the big city.
Dorothy: Accident, my foot!
Rose: It started to rain, and I stood there in the middle of the town square and cried.
Sophia: Gloria was the one who had to get the rabies shot.
Dorothy: I was a biter.
Rose: There I was, drenched, and someone yelled out: "Hey! Don't you have enough sense to come in out of the rain?" Well, then it hit me. And when I went home to St. Olaf, I passed on this bit of street-smart savvy. The next thing you know, in St. Olaf the in thing was coming in out of the rain. I was the town celebrity. Until the phrase "Watch out for that tractor" caught on.
Blanche: What in hell does this have to do with sisters?
Rose: Didn't I mention? St. Olaf and St. Gustav were sister cities.

Blanche: And you remember that time Big Daddy caught us skinny-dipping with those boys?
Charmaine: And you told him it was our Bible study group "just practicing baptizing."
Blanche: Oh, it would've worked, too, if you hadn't come up screaming: "Hey, y'all, things look bigger underwater!"

Dorothy: Blanche, don't you think you should talk to her? She's still your sister.
Blanche: No. My sister has turned into a deceitful old woman whose only pleasure is in hurting people. No offense, Sophia.
Sophia: None taken. Slut.

Blanche: Dorothy, what am I gonna do about my sister coming? By the time she leaves Miami, she'll be more famous here than I am.
Dorothy: Honey, only if they close the Sheraton.

Magda: Anyway, now I must go pack my things. And again, Rose, thank you for story.
Rose: You know, isn't life funny? Last night in bed I told myself: "Nobody listens to your stories, Rose, quit telling them." And I swore I would never tell another story as long as I lived. And then you hear something like this, and you realize these stories make a difference. Oh! You know, something sort of like that happened to Hans Fliegelfleister. [doorbell]
Sophia: I hope it's Death.
Dorothy: Get it, Rose.

Blanche: I don't believe this. I just don't believe it.
Dorothy: Blanche, what's the matter?
Blanche: Listen to this. "Vixen stared at herself in the mirror, her pouty lips, her flaxen hair, her flawless alabaster skin. Her proud breasts seemed to be saying, 'Is it just me or is it cold in here?'"
Dorothy: So?
Blanche: Pouty, flaxen, proud? What do you need? A photograph? This book is about me!

Charmaine: That watch is a family heirloom.
Blanche: As far as I'm concerned you're no longer family.
Charmaine: I believe you said it was in your room. Which room is that?
Sophia: Turnstile at the end of the hall.

Dorothy: Oh, Ma, come here. I want you to taste this. ... Well?
Sophia: Wouldn't it be easier to put a pillow over my face while I sleep?
Dorothy: Just set the table. I'm expecting Stan and his cousin any minute.
Sophia: Oh, then this sauce is perfect. Well, maybe just a drop more disinfectant.