Dorothy: I don't get it.
Rose: This kind of art does nothing for me.
Blanche: But you have to open your mind to new perceptions. This is nonrepresentational art. I work in a museum, so I understand these things. Now, for instance, this slash of color of red across the bottom, well, that represents the setting sun. And this jagged blue line, now, that signifies the ocean. Then this spot of orange up here in the corner, that stands for the planets and man's eternal struggle against nature and the elements.
Rose: No, it doesn't. That's where I put my Creamsicle down this afternoon when I answered the phone. See? It rubs right off.

Blanche: Wait a minute, Rose. Is that my Cabana Club beach towel you have there?
Rose: Is it this one with the naked man and woman in the waves?
Blanche: Yes, that's it. You can't use this towel.
Dorothy: Blanche, Blanche, it's an emergency. We'll replace it next week.
Blanche: Oh, no, you cannot replace this towel. There are too many fond memories attached to this towel.
Dorothy: Blanche, please. I am in no mood to hear about the parade of endless sexual encounters that you have experienced up and down the Florida coastline, with only this towel between your hot flesh and the cold, wet sand.
Blanche: I brought my son Skippy home from the hospital in this towel, Dorothy.
Dorothy: You're lying, Blanche.
Blanche: Damn, you're good. It wasn't all up and down the coast. It was only Fort Lauderdale during spring break.
Dorothy: Give me the towel.

Blanche: How are we gonna come up with $10,000?
Dorothy: Well, I hate to do it, but I do have a couple of thousand in stock that I could cash in.
Rose: Well, I guess I could close up my Christmas club.
Blanche: How much is that?
Rose: Let's see. We're in January. So this would be week three.

Rose: What are you guys doing up?
Dorothy: We're conducting a seance to contact Liberace. We couldn't sleep. Why else would we be up at 4am?

Blanche: Good morning, girls. Boy, do I feel wonderful. I just had the best night's sleep.
Rose: Blanche, it's four in the morning.
Blanche: What? Oh, for heaven's sake. I don't believe it. Do you know what happens if I don't spend eight hours in bed?
Sophia: Iranian guys write their cousins back home and tell them not to come?

Blanche: No, I simply cannot function the next day. But I always sleep like a baby. How could this have happened?
Dorothy: None of us could sleep, and we all know the reason why.
Rose: Why?
Dorothy: You are nothing if not consistent, Rose.
Rose: Thank you, Dorothy, but hot water and oat bran every morning takes most of the credit.

Rose: Why are these statues always of naked men?
Blanche: Oh, you see, Rose, the Greeks and Romans always sculpted men. They admired the beauty of the male form. Its sinewy, muscled hardness, its rippling loins, its chiseled buttocks. My, it's getting hot in here.
Rose: It certainly is. [Rose waves her auction paddle]
Auctioneer: I have 25. Do I hear 30?
Dorothy: Rose, you just made a bid.
Rose: How?
Dorothy: You did this. [Dorothy does the same]
Auctioneer: I have 35. Thank you. Who'll give me-
Blanche: Great, Dorothy.
Rose: Relax, Blanche. It's only $30.
Blanche: No, it's $30,000.
Rose: $30,000? Just for doing this? [again]
Auctioneer: I have 35. Who'll give me 40?
Rose: What did you do that for?
Dorothy: You'll need both hands to pray that he gets someone to give him 40.

Auctioneer: Who'll open the bidding at 5,000?
Dorothy: One of us at a time.
Auctioneer: I have 5,000. Do I have 6,000? Six. Who'll give me 65?
Dorothy: Now, watch how I do this. If you really play it cool, you can scare off the other bidders. Uh, 6500.
Auctioneer: I have 65. Who'll make it seven?
Dorothy: I have seven. Who'll give me 75?
Blanche: My turn. 75.
Auctioneer: I have 75. Who'll give me 8,000?
Rose: Eight thousand.
Auctioneer: I have eight.
Blanche: Rose, what are you doing? You just bid against us.
Rose: Oh, I guess I got carried away with the cool part.
Dorothy: Oh, Rose, I could just smack you.
Auctioneer: I have 85.
Blanche: Oh, give me that thing.
Auctioneer: I have nine. Going once, going twice Unless you ladies would like to pay more. Sold. $9,000.

Sid LaBass: I'd give anything to own a painting like that.
Blanche: How about that painting for a new roof?
Sid LaBass: You're kidding.
Sophia: Of course she's kidding. That painting means everything to me. I could never part with it.
Rose: Sophia! Are you crazy?
Sophia: Crazy about DeKimmel.
Sid LaBass: Ma'am, would you be insulted if I made you an offer for that painting?
Sophia: Please! I'm insulted by that shirt you're wearing. That doesn't mean we can't do business. Talk to me, Sidney.
Sid LaBass: Well, what about a new roof with a five-year warranty?
Sophia: And $2500.
Sid LaBass: In cash?
Sophia: No, in pistachio nuts. Of course. Cash, today. Tomorrow the price goes up. DeKimmel isn't getting any younger.
Sid LaBass: Well, $2500 seems a little steep.
Sophia: $3,000. You ticked me off. [exits]
Dorothy: Now you're watching a real artist at work.

Sid LaBass: Well, I don't think I need to go up there. I could see it was a goner when I drove up.
Blanche: Oh, Sid! Well, can't you patch it up or something?
Sid LaBass: Yeah, I could patch it up, but that won't stop more leaks when it rains again.
Rose: What are you trying to say, Sid? You couldn't follow that?
Dorothy: She has trouble following Murder, She Wrote.