[As Dorothy stands with her arms stretched out underneath a Christmas banner, Blanche and Sophia enter the living room]
Sophia: Oh, I'm having a vision. A religious vision. Oh, God, it's so beautiful!
Blanche: Sophia, please, our Savior wouldn't be caught dead in that outfit.

Rose: When do you think the mysteries are gonna start?
Sophia: You want a mystery? You should have tried the pink dressing at the salad bar. [walking away] Oh, jeez, the mystery continues.

Maitre d': Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sure we all join his son, his daughter and his new bride, Candy, in wishing many returns of the day to our friend and patron for 40 years, Giles Forsythe. [gun fire, woman screams] My God! They've been murdered!
Sophia: Does this mean we don't get any birthday cake?

Sophia: Oh, come on, Pussycat. You figured out that mystery at dinner.
Dorothy: Oh, Ma, that was a game. This is life.
Sophia: Oh, that's right. You've never been good at life.

Blanche: Oh, my goodness. We have company. Just so embarrassed to be seen in this old thing.
Sophia: Don't worry, Blanche. The dress covers most of it.

Dorothy: Gloria is coming here?
Sophia: I wish I knew why you two didn't get along. I just don't understand it. For some reason, you've always been jealous of my good daughter.

Sophia: Hush, pussycat. Ida's ankles are swelled up like a blowfish. Let's see how the hurricane's going.
TV Reporter: Repeat, South Florida is now under a hurricane watch. We'll keep tracking the storm to see if it's going to come our way.
Sophia: I can't believe it, the Eastern Seaboard's history. God, it feels good to be right!

Sophia: Oh, my God, I can't believe it! I feel light-headed. I think I'm gonna... I'm gonna... [Dorothy passes out] No, I'm okay.

Sophia: Oh, pussycat, you've come to. Boy, it wasn't easy getting you in here. Stan took your head, Gloria took your legs. I haven't heard such heavy breathing since... Well, since before you passed out.
Dorothy: Ma, please!
Sophia: Oh, come on. When I said that to Stan, he laughed so hard he dropped you.

Dorothy: Ma, you sound happy about this.
Sophia: I am. This is wonderful. Your sister found a man.
Dorothy: I don't believe this. All the years I was with him he was a yutz. She goes to bed with him and it's great?
Sophia: That's right. He was wrong for you. He's perfect for her.
Dorothy: Ma, that's ridiculous.
Sophia: Look, Gloria isn't the kind of woman that does well by herself. She's the kind of woman who needs a rich man to buy her things and make her feel special.
Dorothy: Oh? And what kind of woman am I?
Sophia: The kind who should live with her mother.