Marguerite: What is she talking about?
Sophia: Don't play dumb with me. I've been known to cast a curse myself. Do you think Shelley Long was really tired of playing in Cheers? Wrong, baby. I was tired of her!

Dorothy: Look, Marguerite is a lovely person. She just cannot do the job.
Rose: [sighs] I hate to admit it, but you're right. We had a similar situation back in St. Olaf, with Mrs. Gunderson, our grade school teacher. Oh, she was the nicest woman you'd ever want to meet, but as the years went by, she got her facts a little confused. In biology class she started telling kids that the human body was made up of 80% Ovaltine. While we were studying WWI, she told us mustard gas was something you got from eating too many hot dogs. That's why to this day in St. Olaf, everyone celebrates the 4th of July with a thin omelet on a bun.
Dorothy: What do you say after we fire Marguerite, we each chip in and get Rose a CAT scan.

Blanche: I wonder what this is.
Rose: I'll bet it's a love potion.
Dorothy: Ah, Rose, come on, honey. There's no such thing as a love potion.
Rose: Sure there is, Dorothy. My grandparents got together because of a love potion. Well, actually it was a foot salve Gramps accidentally swallowed. You see, Grandma was the nurse who pumped his stomach, but she was new and she attached the nozzle to the wrong place. Next thing you know, they were engaged.

Marguerite: A tiara? [Blanche and Dorothy look to Rose]
Rose: Well, you said to get something I'd buy for myself. You see, I've always wanted a tiara. I mean, ever since I was a little girl back in St. Olaf. I mean, every year I'd blow out my birthday candles and wish for one. And every year I'd get a freshly-carved pair of wooden shoes. Except for one year, during the Depression when I just got a block of coal, which I carved into a pair of high-top Keds.

Rose: This has been the worst day of my life.
Dorothy: Honey, what happened to you?
Rose: First, my alarm didn't go off so I was late to work, and then I had a flat tire on the way, and when I finally got there, I smashed my hand in the door. Oh, I feel like crawling under the covers and eating Velveeta right out of the box.
Dorothy: I hear B.B. King does that when he's tired of singing the blues.

Blanche: Well, why don't you begin by telling us a little about yourself.
Marguerite: Well, there isn't much to tell. I'm hardworking and honest, and I'll work for a reasonable wage.
Rose: That's it?
Marguerite: All right, I won't go on with this charade any longer. There is something else. I'm black. Now, if that's a problem for you, I'm white. Now, of course, that'll cost you extra.
Dorothy: Oh, Marguerite, I could kiss you.
Marguerite: And I don't go for that freaky stuff.
Rose: Neither do Dorothy and I.
[Blanche looks to Rose]

Sophia: Oh, Dorothy, before I go, I need your opinion on something. What should I give Phil's daughter as a wedding gift? Your grandmother's lace tablecloth, or 50 bucks towards getting a neck?
Dorothy: Give her the tablecloth.
Sophia: You're right. She's got a husband. He doesn't care that she looks like Abe Vigoda, why should I?

Blanche: What do you think of our home?
Midge: Lovely. Last place I was had bars in the windows and a big wall with guard dogs.
Rose: Sounds like quite a security system.
Midge: The best. San Quentin. Fifteen years I spent in that stinking hole. I saw violence, I saw despair, I saw Johnny Cash eight times.
Blanche: Well, I guess that concludes the interview, unless there are any questions.
Rose: I have a question. Does Johnny Cash ever wear plaid?
Dorothy: It's not her fault. She's from Minnesota. We'll be in touch.

Blanche: All right, maybe she's lax on the housework.
Dorothy: She is more than a little lax. She's habitually late, she's broken quite a number of glasses and she threw out People Magazine before I had a chance to read it.
Rose: But, Dorothy, look at all the wonderful things that have happened since Marguerite started working here. Blanche is dating Norman, you're sleeping better than you have in years and Sandy Duncan is finally back on TV.
Dorothy: I think we should have a little talk with her.
Rose: You know Sandy Duncan?
Blanche: Look, Marguerite didn't throw out People.
Dorothy: [laughing] Oh, good. [Dorothy hits Rose on the head with it]

Dorothy: Rose, why are you cleaning the kitchen? This is Marguerite's job.
Rose: Dorothy, I know exactly what you're going to say, but I talked to Marguerite on the phone and this time she has a really good excuse for being late.
Dorothy: Fine, what is it?
Rose: [sighs] She had to go pluck a hair from the chin of a dwarf.
Dorothy: And you fell for that old excuse.