Dorothy: The real problem is you, Blanche. You are selfish.
Blanche: Oh, please. Everybody says what a giving person I am.
Sophia: She's talking about when you're in an upright position.

Blanche: I'm Blanche Devereaux. And I know it's not pertinent at the moment, but I'm double-jointed.

Blanche: The point is, Rose, you do this kind of stupid thing all the time. And if you're not doing something stupid, you're saying something stupid, or wearing something stupid, or cooking something stupid.
Dr. Ashley: Rose, what do you think of Blanche saying these things?
Rose: I think she's a garconanokin.
Dr. Ashley: Well, what exactly does that mean?
Rose: Literally, it's the precise moment when dog doo turns white. But in general, it refers to the kind of person you don't wanna share your hoogencoggles with.
Dorothy: Rose, if you say one more of those stupid words, so help me-
Rose: Oh, blow it out your tubenburbles!

Dr. Ashley: Good afternoon, Ladies. I'm Dr. Ashley. Won't you come into my office.
Sophia: I'm Sophia Petrillo, and my idea of a good psychiatrist is a bartender who pours without a spout.

Blanche: Stop it! I cannot stand it anymore!
Sophia: You know what I can't stand anymore? That phony accent of yours. What is this, Designing Women?

Blanche: Do you see what we put up with? She's an airhead.
Rose: Oh, yeah? Well, you're a barbell.
Dorothy: That's a dumbbell, you twit!

Blanche: Well, what do you think we should we do?
Sophia: It's not for me to say. But I'll tell you a story. Picture it: Miami, 1987. A house, the only one in the neighborhood without a pool. But I digress. Four women, friends. They laugh, they cry, they eat. They love, they hate, they eat. They dream, they hope, they eat. Every time you turn around, they eat.
Rose: Sophia, are those four women us?
Sophia: Look in the mirror, blubber-butt. The point I'm trying to make is, what's going on here is living. Just because you have some rough times doesn't mean you throw in the towel. You go on living. And eating.

[flashback:]
Blanche: Girls! Girls! There is a busload of Greek sailors out front. They wanna know how many drachma there are in $8.00.
[present:]
Rose: I know it didn't turn out well, but it was an honest mistake. Besides, something good came out of it. We learned to make souvlaki.

[flashback:]
Rose: My boss at the center made a pass at me.
Sophia: Maybe you misunderstood. What exactly did he do?
Rose: He called me in his office, threw me down on the couch and kissed me.
Sophia: That's a pass. Okay, I think I can help you. I'll tell you a story, Rose. Picture it: Sicily, 1922.
Blanche: Sophia, I have a problem. I just saw the guy I've been dating out with another woman. What do you think I oughta do?
Sophia: I think you should sit down and picture Sicily, 1922. It was the worst of times, it was the worst of times. It was Sicily, 1922.
Dorothy: Oh, Ma, I have a problem.
Sophia: Just sit down and listen. First, is everyone who lives in this house here at this very moment?
Dorothy: Yes.
Sophia: Then for the last time, picture it: Sicily, 1922.

[flashback:]
Sophia: Sicily, 1922. A beautiful young woman with breasts not unlike Brigitte Nielsen, except hers moved when she skipped, she comes walking down a picturesque country road when suddenly a yellow Rolls-Royce pulls up and blocks her path.
Blanche: Oh! Who was in the Rolls?
Sophia: Robert Goulet, for all I know. It's not important to the story. Anyway, the Rolls-Royce moves on, and the girl finds her pepperoni is missing.
Rose: What happened to it, Sophia?
Sophia: Bambi ate it. How should I know? You keep missing the point. The thing is, she has no pepperoni to bring to her family's table. She gets hysterical. She starts to run. She runs through the field, the meadow, over the hill until she comes to a raging river filled with pepperoni swimming upstream.
Dorothy: Ma, pepperoni swimming upstream?
Sophia: Yeah, I know it's odd. Pepperoni is a land meat, but there it was. She wades into the river, grabs an armful and races home to feed her family. When she tells the story, they think it's an act of God. But as it turned out, a disgruntled pepperoni stuffer had blown up the factory in a neighboring town, causing pepperoni to rain down over a hundred square miles, which is where the Sicilian saying "It's raining cats and pepperoni" comes from. Is this helping anyone yet? Because this sure feels like an ending to me.