Sophia: Let me tell you two a story.
Dorothy & Blanche: No.
Sophia: A short story.
Dorothy & Blanche: No.
Sophia: An anecdote. I won't take no for an answer. Picture this. Ninety-year-old twins, Ralph & Nunzio, sitting on a park bench. Ralph says to Nunzio, "Hey, whatever happened to that streaking craze?" And Nunzio says, "What streaking craze?" And Ralph says, "Remember, when everybody took off their clothes and ran down the street." So Nunzio says, "Hey, that sounds like fun. I think I'll do it right now." So, at 90 years old, he gets naked and goes off down the street, right past these two old ladies, Carlotta and Maria. Maria turns to Carlotta and says, "What the hell was that?" And Carlotta says, "I don't know, but whatever it was, it sure needs ironing."
Dorothy: Ma, what's the point?
Sophia: With a story, you get a point. With an anecdote, pure entertainment.

Blanche: I don't understand this, but these men are acting crazy.
Sophia: You're telling me. I haven't been hit on like this since I stopped hanging out at the midnight show of Harold and Maude.

Blanche: Sophia, where are you going?
Sophia: To my room.
Rose: Well, you can't. It could be dangerous!
Sophia: Please, I'm 80. Bathtubs are dangerous!

Sophia: I got it, nobody told me. I didn't get it, nobody told me. I figured, "This is life," and went back to my meatballs.

Blanche: Dorothy, what'd they say about the blood test?
Dorothy: Oh, we didn't wait around for the results. I don't need a blood test to tell me who my mother is. A mother is someone who raises you and loves you and is always there for you. I don't need any more proof than that.
Sophia: Me neither. I raised her, and I was the one who got her through that awkward period. The 50 toughest years of my life.

Sophia: Picture it. Sicily, 1912. A beautiful, young peasant girl with clear, olive skin meets an exciting but penniless Spanish artist. There's an instant attraction. They laugh, they sing. They slam down a few boilermakers. Shortly afterwards, he's arrested for showing her how he can hold his palette without using his hands. But I digress. He paints her portrait and they make passionate love. She spends much of the next day in the shower with a loofah sponge, scrubbing his fingerprints off her body. She sees the portrait and is insulted. It looks nothing like her. And she storms out of his life forever. That peasant girl was me and that painter was Pablo Picasso.
Dorothy: Ma, I have a feeling you're lying.
Rose: Be positive, Dorothy.
Dorothy: OK, I'm positive you're lying.

Dorothy: OK, Ma, if this is what you really want to do...
Sophia: It's not what I want to do, it's what I have to do. Dorothy, today is my anniversary, and I barely remember getting married. You know, I hate getting old. You always seem to be losing something. First it's your eyesight. Then people are telling you to turn down the TV set when you can barely hear it. And you could live with that. But this? They're trying to take something from me that I just won't give. I can't let this happen, Dorothy. I can't lose my Sal. Not again.

Sophia: Well, I've got two tickets here for the final night of the Philharmonic, and one of them has your name on it. Here you go, Opus.
Dorothy: I thought you two went last night.
Sophia: I traded those for these. Actually, last night we went to see Dying Young. Terrific. I laughed till I peed. And then I laughed at that.

Rose: Don't you care that they're fighting?
Sophia: Of course I do. You think I have no feelings? Let me tell you a story. Picture this. A crowded Mediterranean port, teeming with your tired, your poor, your hungry. You know, your huddled masses yearning to be free. We boarded the ship and set sail for America. Five hundred people filled with hope, singing, laughing, drinking. Actually, only the Irish were drinking. But I digress. Of course, on the second day, things took a turn for the worse. For the next month and a half, the storm-tossed seas made our lives a living hell. If I wasn't fighting for a blanket, I was fighting for food. If I wasn't fighting for food, I was fighting for shuffleboard equipment. I just threw that in to see if you were paying attention. Anyway, the storm broke, and through the mist I saw the beautiful lady I'd been longing to see for months.
Rose: The Statue of Liberty.
Sophia: No, my mother. That's how dense the fog was. But beyond her was the Statue of Liberty. I remember the first words I shouted out,"There she is, Lady Liberty." I also remember the second words I shouted out, "Slow down, you yutz, you're going right past her." But he didn't hear. And that's why today, Rose, there's an unusually large Italian population in Spilsbury, Massachusetts.
Rose: That's a really moving story, Sophia, but what exactly is the point?
Sophia: The point is, you already forgot lessons one and three. Quit being an idiot. I stole 40 bucks while you were listening to that cockamamie story.

Dorothy: Ma, are you sure about this?
Sophia: I'm not even sure I have these pants on right.
Dorothy: Listen, I want you to go slow and pace yourself.
Sophia: That's what I used to tell your father. The only thing he did faster than eat was make love. And in both cases, before I was finished, he'd pat his stomach and say, "I've had enough."