Rose: I heard a fable when I was a little girl in St. Olaf that might help. Can I tell you?
Dorothy: That's right, Rose. Wait till my defenses are down and take advantage of me.
Rose: Okey-dokey. Once upon a time in the magical land of Flafluevenhaven lived Toonder, the mediocre tiger.
He was called mediocre because there was nothing special about him. He wasn't talented, he wasn't smart, he wasn't rich, he wasn't handsome. He wasn't good at anything.
Dorothy: If he also wore a bad toupee, she could be describing my Stanley.
Rose: Anyway, it made Toonder's wife miserable that her husband was best known for being mediocre.
Blanche: I understand Marilyn Quayle feels the same way.
Rose: So she asked her fairy godmother to grant Toonder the ability to perform incredible feats of magic, and her wish was granted. Toonder the Mediocre became Toonder the Magnificent.
Blanche: I guess he didn't want to change the monograms on his towels, hmm?
Rose: Well, Toonder the tiger spent so much time performing that he didn't have enough time to spend with his wife. Well, she told him that she missed the time they had together when he was just mediocre, so Toonder used his magic only once more, and that was to make his powers disappear.
Blanche: And they lived happily ever after?
Rose: No, actually she got bored and ran off with Wiseblat the weasel. That was Toonder's old business manager. But they lived happily ever after.
Blanche: What happened to Toonder?
Dorothy: Oh, who cares, Blanche? Hey, once you hear "happily ever after," it's over.

Dorothy: I was talking to Edith's daughter after the funeral. She'd flown in from San Francisco. She kept telling me how bad she felt that she hadn't seen her mother in over a year.
Rose: Well, it's hard to stay close to someone when they live clear across the country.
Dorothy: Well, I live in the same house with my mother, yet we spend little quality time together. You know, sometimes we'll be watching TV and I start wondering how many more times I have left like that. And I find myself staring at her, like I'm trying to freeze her face in my memory. Like I never want to forget one single line or wrinkle. Suddenly she'll say, "Why are you staring at me? I've been wanting to pick my nose for the past half hour."

Dorothy: Ma, we're going away for the weekend, just the two of us. So pack your bags, we're off to a cabin in the Keys.
Sophia: Wait a minute, Dorothy, you pulled this one on me once before. Remember Shady Pines Retirement Village? She told me we were going to a resort. We pull up to this place that looks like the Bates Motel and two goons in white coats drag me inside. And for the next year and a half, I'm forced to make lanyards against my will.
Dorothy: Ma, you know that's not how it was.
Sophia: You're right. Sometimes they forced me to make moccasins. No thanks. Not again.

Dorothy: Ma, you've been in there for 20 minutes. Now, what are you doing?
Sophia: Painting a fresco on the ceiling. It's a bathroom. What do you think I'm doing?

Dorothy: Oh, Ma, look. Here's you holding me when I was a baby. Do you remember what was going through your mind then?
Sophia: Oh, yeah. I'll never forget that summer day in 1932. I was thinking, "Boy, am I blessed to have such a precious baby in my life."
Dorothy: Oh, Ma, that's beautiful. Things are going just great. Oh, look at this. You're holding my hand while I'm skating. What were you thinking then?
Sophia: I'll never forget that winter day in 1934. I was thinking, "Boy, am I blessed to have such a precious two-year-old in my life."
Dorothy: Oh, look. Here's one of us on a bicycle built for two.
Sophia: I'll never forget that spring day in 1940, I was...
Dorothy: Ma, you're making this up.
Sophia: Of course I am. How the hell should I remember what I was thinking back then? I still look for Ed Sullivan on Sunday nights. The scary part is sometimes I find him.

Dorothy: Oh, Pop was sure a lousy photographer. Who is that?
Sophia: Uncle Vittorio.
Dorothy: His head's cut off. How can you tell?
Sophia: Because that's exactly how he looked in the morgue after he turned state's evidence against Benny the Blade.

Sophia: Quality time has to come naturally. It happens when you're not thinking about it. Like when we're cutting vegetables together. That's quality time.
Dorothy: I was hoping for something a little more magical than that.
Sophia: Let me tell you a little story. When I was a kid in Sicily, I loved lightning bugs. I'd stand out in the field and watch them light up the night sky. That was magical. That was spectacular. I tell you, I saw a thousand points of light. It was a kinder, gentler America. I turned to my wife, Barbara, and I said-
Dorothy: Ma, what the hell are you talking about?
Sophia: Oh. Sorry, I must have lapsed into George Bush's inauguration speech. Where was I?
Dorothy: Lightning bugs.
Sophia: Right. I liked them so much, I'd catch them in glass jars so I could watch them light up whenever I wanted, but they always died.
Dorothy: I see what you mean. They needed their freedom.
Sophia: No, they needed their air. I always forgot to punch holes in the lid. The point is it's the same with all magical moments. You can't capture them forever, no matter what Kodak tells you.
Dorothy: So what you're saying, Ma, is that, like a lightning bug, I put you in a glass jar and, waiting for you to light up, I nearly suffocated you.
Sophia: Jeez, Dorothy, you sure know how to beat a metaphor to death.

Rose: Why are you both wearing black? Did you just come from a funeral?
Dorothy: No, Rose. We were singing backup for Johnny Cash. Of course we were at a funeral.

Blanche: Who died?
Sophia: My best friend, Edith Flannery.
Rose: I thought Mildred Feinberg was your best friend.
Sophia: She was, but we've grown apart. I think her death had something to do with it. I really thought Edith would be around longer. She was only 88-years-old and in perfect health. Then one night, bingo, she closes her eyes and she's gone.
Blanche: She died in her sleep.
Sophia: What are you, deaf? I said she died playing bingo. Well, I guess Phyllis Glockman will be my new best friend.
Dorothy: Ma, I thought you hated Phyllis Glockman.
Sophia: I do, but the rate my friends are going, I won't have to spend much time with her.

Blanche: Well, Dorothy, I live by one simple rule. Share your love with people today 'cause they may be gone tomorrow.
Dorothy: That's a beautiful sentiment, Blanche.
Blanche: Comes from dating a lot of traveling salesmen.