Laszlo: I wanted to say that I would rather not decide at all.
Blanche: Oh, but, Laszlo, you've got to. It's the only way. Otherwise, it'll just end up coming between the three of us. So now tell us, which one of us is it gonna be? Dorothy here, or Rose, or a woman whose breasts you once described as "perfect champagne glass-sized orbs of dancing loveliness"?
Laszlo: Blanche, I did not say that.
Blanche: Well, you agreed when I said it.

Laszlo: Ladies, let me explain. I know I should have made my choice long ago, but the truth is you each inspired me so well. I wish I could continue seeing you all, but I understand why that is unacceptable. Therefore, my choice will have to be...
Blanche: Laszlo, before you make your choice, let me say what a privilege it has been to work with a man I consider to be the greatest Hungarian sculptor of our time.
Dorothy: And just let me say that if Blanche can name two other Hungarian sculptors of any time, I shall eat that statue.

Blanche: Oh, Laszlo, just one more thing. You know that famous Picasso painting, "Nude Woman Playing the Violin"?
Laszlo: Well, of course.
Blanche: Well, originally it was called "Blanche Playing the Violin." Only it wasn't a violin. You think about that the next time you're standing around with your chisel in your hand.

Blanche: Oh, my God, Dorothy. There it is. The statue.
Dorothy: Oh, this is so exciting.
Blanche: I just can't wait to hear that crowd gasp when they lift up the sheet and see me there.
Dorothy: I'd think you'd be used to that by now, Blanche.

Sophia: Hey, Dorothy, can you believe it? Ten grand for this piece of junk. [drops the piece to the ground]
Dorothy: Oh! Oh, Ma!
Sophia: [laughing] You fell for it. This stuff kills me.
Security Guard: Excuse me, ma'am. You'll have to come with me. You just smashed a priceless Lichtenfein.
Sophia: Oh, no. I must have mixed the two up.
Dorothy: Oh, ma, ma. When are you gonna learn that you have to stop with these ridiculous practical jokes?
Sophia: I can't believe it. She fell for it again. You ought to have "yutz" tattooed on your forehead. Here you go.
You were brilliant, Harry.

Blanche: Thank you, Laszlo. One more thing, Laszlo. I'd like to ask you a question. By any chance, is there anybody here tonight in whom you might be interested romantically?
Laszlo: Well, as a matter of fact, yes.
Victor: Oh, Laszlo. Looks like we're a hit.
Laszlo: I'm sorry. I thought you knew.
Sophia: How can you blame him? The man looked at the three of you naked for a month.

Blanche: He is gorgeous, isn't he, girls? There's not a woman at the museum who hasn't been after him.
Laszlo: Oh, women can be so silly. They think because you're an artist, you must also be a great lover. [all laugh] They think because you're a master in the studio, you must also be a master in the bedroom. [all laugh] They think because you can work a piece of clay into a piece of beautiful art, you can also work a woman's body into fits of ecstasy and passion and total screaming abandon. [Lazlo laughs, the girls are silent]
Blanche: Would anybody else like something cold to drink?
Dorothy & Rose: I would.

Rose: Blanche, I can't believe you're actually going through with this.
Blanche: Well, of course I am, Rose. Laszlo is a world-famous sculptor. This is my opportunity to be immortalized forever in a classic work of art.
Dorothy: That's exactly what she said when that shoe salesman took Polaroids of her in the backseat of his Volare.

Sophia: I just poured you a nice glass of orange juice.
Dorothy: Thank you. It was very nice of you. [Sophia laughs] Ma! Is this a dribble glass?
Sophia: Yeah. It works better when all that pulp doesn't clog up the dribble hole.
Dorothy: Well, why did you do this?
Sophia: Murray Hazeltine. He won't quit with the practical jokes. I decided I'm gonna give him a taste of his own medicine.
Dorothy: Do I look like Murray Hazeltine?
Sophia: A little around the eyebrows. But that's not the point. I've got to make sure I have the perfect gag before I spring it on him. Aw, I'm sorry, pussycat. No hard feelings?
Dorothy: Oh, okay, Ma. No hard feelings.
[As Dorothy shakes Sophia's hand, she recoils in shock after a buzzing noise]

Blanche: Yeah, I could use some of that. I think I might be coming down with a cold.
Dorothy: Well, it doesn't come as a surprise. You've spent every afternoon this week standing stark naked in a cold, windy studio.
Blanche: Oh, I didn't catch cold at Laszlo's studio, Dorothy. Laszlo keeps me too warm for that. Too warm and too tingly. Too warm and too tingly and too hot.
Dorothy: Well, have some juice anyway, Blanche. I'd feel better.
Blanche: [starting to take a sip] Not that we actually do anything. In the studio. Laszlo's been a perfect gentleman so far. [holding the cup to her mouth again] I just stand there in front of him in all my luscious nakedness, and somehow he manages to suppress the urge to throw me on the floor and ravage me.
Sophia: Please, if he throws you on the floor, you'll both end up in the apartment below.
Dorothy: Drink up, Blanche. [doorbell rings]
Blanche: That must be him now. I just have to get my jacket. We're driving into the museum together. [drinks juice with no problem] Coming, Laszlo.
[Dorothy takes a slip from glass and it once again dribbles all down her top]